


Stories From The City

by Moonaco



Series: Stories From The City Stories From The Undead [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amorality, Androgyny, Angels and Devils, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Antagonist!Reader, Anti-Hero!Reader, Art, Art References, BDSM, Biblical Reinterpretation, Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Blasphemy, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Cheating, Complex characters/relationships, Devil May Cry 5 Spoilers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hedonism, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I'll take my sweet time describing the characters and their relationships, LGBTQ Themes, Love/Hate, M/M, Magical Creatures, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morbid Humor, Multi, Nephilim, Nero's Mother - Freeform, One Big Dysfunctional Family, Open Relationships, Original Character(s), Other, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, Paganism, Polyamory, Poor Life Choices, Post-Canon, Post-Devil May Cry 5, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use, References to Christianity, References to Spiritsm, Sarcasm, Self-Discovery, Self-Insert, Selfishness, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Tendencies, Vampirism, Villain!Reader, occultism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28322118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonaco/pseuds/Moonaco
Summary: I don’t dislike investing my energy evaluating myself and the ones that surround me. In fact, I live for the unpredictability. Observing life is one of my many passions. But as interesting as being the voyeur on sex instances can be, being the pain-inflictor is just as exciting.Between us, this is not my first nor last meddling with human issues.For them, I’m only a newcomer in Red Grave City. I’m fresh meat in this wolf's lair, a less-than-average person you could inquire. Came from nothing and will probably end a nobody in some eyes.Opinions aside, I do seek to take a long break, a vacation, I might tell the inquisitor, as I’m putting on hold my side-job as god of the Underworld, “Hell” per say. You're welcome.Now go! Resume your life of relentless anxiety, in addition of this deity barging your doors with a sucker punch, just for fun, the ever obnoxious me.Blessed be the devils that can finally roam free from The Bottomless Pit and take a fresh air. It does get crowded there. All I’m saying is I’m creating more employment than your pitiful government. 'Cause someone will need to clean the inevitable mess of my next mischiefs. And It won’t be me, noble witnesses. So Let’s rock, shall we?
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Lady/Trish (Devil May Cry), Nero (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Series: Stories From The City Stories From The Undead [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076975
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. City Of The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Author's recommended Playlist for immersion, not on any specific order:
> 
> \- Emotional Orchestral Music 1, https://youtu.be/edh5sPk2AHA ;  
> \- Emotional Orchestral Music 7, https://youtu.be/PrDTk3TKfmI ;  
> \- Vivaldi: Sacred vocal works, https://youtu.be/odYiFYaq6pk ;  
> \- Music of Cathedrals and Forgotten Temples, https://youtu.be/m4oZZhpMXP4 ;  
> \- The best of Debussy, https://youtu.be/qRZmdzCGLYw ;  
> _ The best of Rachmaninoff, https://youtu.be/hLS8gxQRS_8 .
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
> 
> I took the liquid courage and started writing this fic I've idealized for quite some time in my mind. My first fanfic ever written! No better start than to pay homage to the Devil May Cry Franchise, which I'd love to own but thankfully for the fans I don't. XD
> 
> After drinking three bottles of wine in this Christmas Holiday, naughty me, came to give you my present, this Santa Claus is tardy...  
> But rather late than never, am I right?
> 
> A gift to all readers, writers of fan fiction, lovers of the Devil May Cry family, from me to you.  
> Love you all!
> 
> Oh Holy, Divine night, when Christ was born! I'll probably massacre the Bible with my ignorance of it, and lack of knowledge overall, in all things' life. And so be it. 
> 
> Thank you in advance for spending your time with me and giving this work a try.  
> Happy holidays to all, and a great year ahead! <333
> 
> P.S.: Comments with criticism are well-received, as well as suggestions, or takes in this piece. Feel free to communicate whatever you desire. Let me know what you're thinking.
> 
> -Moonaco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rex tremendae majestatis (King of Majesty tremendous)  
> Qui salvandos salvas gratis (Who dost free salvation send us)  
> Salva me, fons pietatis (Fount of pity, then befriend us)"
> 
> -'Dies Irae' prayer ("Day of Wrath")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caption
> 
> The present symbol(s) in the narrative Stories From The City, state:
> 
> "-" An opinionated speech from the referenced speaker on the matters treated;
> 
> "_" A cultural reference;
> 
> "*" An inner dialogue, breaking the sentence, by a divergence/opposition/contraposition/juxtaposition of what is said.

[ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crucifixion_and_Last_Judgement_diptych)

_**Detail view of The Last Judgement by Jan van Eyck (ca. 1430-40).**_

* * *

**STORIES FROM THE** _-notorious-_ **CITY**

 _ ~~*A contemporary **Diary** of a not-quite-dead Entity*~~_ ~~~~

* * *

Where do I begin my internal monologue?

I could introduce myself, of course, but I would find myself in the same initial predicament again…

Where do I begin? Where to begin? From the _beginning_ , most could say.

Clever bunch, aren't they?

Well, humans always like to consider themselves the epitome of evolution, am I right?

So nothing I profess will satisfy their “intellectual” appetite.

The same individuals would point out the fact that I am postponing the opening of this story.

Don’t get me wrong, as far as I’m concerned, they’re _dead_ right if I could say so. I am indeed taking my time.

Now the question left, Is it for your sake, or mine? Both?

I’ll try to be as upfront as I can, I don’t have many recollections of the [**_"Gospel of Genesis”._**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Genesis)

Nor do I know If I was there with certainty…

Not the point I'm trying to make here.

Let's assume I was present the very same “day” the Divine was conceived in all its glory...

At the time our **Creator** blew the celebrated Breath of Life on nothing, and nothing became everything, or perhaps something?

I don't know, confuses me too...

You will soon come into the picture, hang in there, _**voices of my head**. _

As I was saying, If I happened to testify to the Divine Creation, I could grasp the reality I find myself in all of my so-called “life choices”.

Troubles, you shall name them.

Choices that many of us lose sleep to...

In another way, something I’ve come to learn from mankind is that time's not just only relative, as they have an inkling to ascribe many incidents.

 ** _Time's more fluid and distorted than we give it enough credit actually_**.

As an illustration of this mundane and sometimes banal event for them is the convention of _passing_ time.

Hours, to days to years, so to speak.

But a “natural event" humans denominate it.

* * *

**_ 'Mors autem naturalis' _ **

* * *

"Death is but natural", I hear from some mouths, which bothers me as well.

Oh please, there's nothing but supernatural forces under the sun you fool! Just a heads-up!

I hear many advocating their Science as infallible too, trustworthy even, as some like to claim.

 ~~*~~ _~~Don't get me started on the atheists!*~~ _

In my lowly perception, it’s just a reason-based and rational-ruling god created to cradle them from the danger and fear that the unknown provides.

Comforting them with answers that are supposed to quench their thirst for knowledge and control.

I don’t feel the need to tell the forthcoming consequences of creating a god in its image.

Giving life to fantasies that should stay as they are, fantasies.

But no, they dared to go further, inventing technology...

As a very wise individual said once, and I'm going to paraphrase it, you show a caveman fire, and he deems it as magic, you show a scientist fire, and he sees technology, or so they say, more or less.

You can tell I don't care. What I do care about is the profanity some creatures persist to commit more than others!

_**These caveman-like beings can call me Magician,** _

_**When they fit their eyes on me with awe and consternation,** _

_**While I wash their incredulous faces with the same fire they discovered.**_

Continuing, the problem of god-like ideas is in itself.

The Sacred Scriptures show that humans have tried countless times, formerly in their fall from grace, to “ascend” to the divine.

Even as entertaining the absurdity of surpassing it altogether.

They don't want the fire to warm their roof. Or a calendar stuck in their refrigerators, marking the passing of New Year's Eve.

Mankind doesn’t want to be human. Not anymore.

No, they want more.

And will always crave more.

They're power-hungry.

And this god-like feature of never-ending satisfaction will be their ladder and demise.

Because they invited chaos home.

Invited [**_Pest, War, Famine, and Death_**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Horsemen_of_the_Apocalypse)lastly.

And this is where I stepped in on this **_["Divine Comedy”.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Divine_Comedy)_**

My purpose since the degradation of humankind is to cause havoc as much as possible.

Being their number one obstacle to overcome in their search for immortality.

A halt to the construction of the Babylon Tower _,_ till its eventual demise as a total.

I'm interpreted as a rite of passage in some cultures, a mournful situation to envelop the poor’s harvested soul and its loved ones...

Some, strangely enough, welcome me, wishing for their well-deserved rest and final curtain.

They come to me as a child that yearns for the loving embrace of a parent.

One who will alienate his infant from everything wrong in this world.

Away from the pain that the monsters outside the little cocoon cause this fragile being.

I apologize for bursting your bubble my dearest. Blasting your tiny dome.

But I’m far from being humane, love, even if I’ve accompanied you for the longest roads you have wandered.

I’m not your friend, nor a fiend.

I am for the most of you, an enemy of everything that has a beating heart.

A life-offender.

The joke’s on you, as I’m neither love nor hate, black or white.

Neither Devil nor Angel.

An eclipse of both "opposites" perchance.

I’m the darkness that longs for the light, and the torch that trespasses the night, navigating between this diverse existence.

As you may tell from my slothful introduction, I’m what others refer to as **Death.**

_Reaper of lives. The bringer of bad news. The boatman of the sea of fire._

_* ~~At least, according to the folklore revolving around me...*~~ _

Figuring it's better for you to judge me by my next set of actions, than serving you with empty words, I'll admit you, as a one-time offer, by my side.

Consider yourself doomed, my witness.

You may as well throw your Bibles away, for the time being, and follow me however you like, for your spirit's contentment, as we'll embark hand in hand in the **Stories From The City** , affectionately named by Death itself.

Which city would you ask?

 **Red Grave City** , of course, sexy thing.

My next stop venture...

* * *

**_To die, one must live first._ **

**_So allow me to draw your last breath._ **

* * *

[ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crucifixion_and_Last_Judgement_diptych)

_**Detail view of The Last Judgement by Jan van Eyck (ca. 1430-40).** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # Divine Comedy; 
> 
> "The Divine Comedy (Italian: Divina Commedia [diˈviːna komˈmɛːdja]) is a long Italian narrative poem by Dante Alighieri, begun c. 1308 and completed in 1320, a year before his death in 1321. It is widely considered to be the pre-eminent work in Italian literature and one of the greatest works of world literature. The poem's imaginative vision of the afterlife is representative of the medieval world-view as it had developed in the Western Church by the 14th century. It helped establish the Tuscan language, in which it is written, as the standardized Italian language. It is divided into three parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. The narrative takes as its literal subject the state of souls after death and presents an image of divine justice meted out as due punishment or reward, and describes Dante's travels through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise or Heaven, while allegorically the poem represents the soul's journey towards God, beginning with the recognition and rejection of sin (Inferno), followed by the penitent Christian life (Purgatorio), which is then followed by the soul's ascent to God (Paradiso)."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse; "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (usually referred to as the Four Horsemen) are figures in Christian faith, appearing in the New Testament's final book, Revelation, an apocalypse written by John of Patmos, as well as in the Old Testament's prophetic Book of Zechariah, and in the Book of Ezekiel, where they are named as punishments from God."
> 
> "Revelation 6 tells of a book/scroll in God's right hand that is sealed with seven seals. The Lamb of God/Lion of Judah opens the first four of the seven seals, which summons four beings that ride out on white, red, black, and pale horses. To Zechariah, they are described as 'the ones whom the Lord has sent to patrol the earth' causing it to rest quietly. Ezekiel lists them as 'sword, famine, wild beasts, and plague.'"
> 
> "In John's revelation, the first horseman is on a white horse, carrying a bow, and given a crown, riding forward as a figure of Conquest, perhaps invoking Pestilence, Christ, or the Antichrist. The second carries a sword and rides a red horse and is the creator of War. The third is a food merchant riding upon a black horse, symbolizing Famine. The fourth and final horse is pale green, and upon it rides Death accompanied by Hades. 'They were given authority over a quarter of the earth, to kill with sword, famine, and plague, and by means of the beasts of the earth.'"
> 
> "The Christian apocalyptic vision is that the Four Horsemen are to set a divine end time upon the world as harbingers of the Last Judgment."  
> # Gospel Of Genesis; "The Book of Genesis, the first book of the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Old Testament, is an account of the creation of the world, the early history of humanity, Israel's ancestors, and the origins of the Jewish people. Its Hebrew name is the same as its first word, Bereshit ('In the beginning')."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # 'Mors Autem Naturalis'; "Death is but natural" - Translated from Latin


	2. Wheel Of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I frequently find myself in the edge of precipice. Hanging, for dear life, trying not to lose me in the process of unfolding the Divine's Original Plan. The part I’ve been actively playing since my creation, could be nothing more than a deception. At all times being the predator, my days as prey will surely come.  
> The more recent millennium in which I, thank God, became more self-aware, added to the current knowledge that karma will come soon to bite my ass. An unwavering bravado I've nursed with pretentiousness, slowly leaves this body if only by a fraction. If you were unfortunate enough to cross my path in my mostly unruly years, I likely made you my lapdog as I incited you to chant your own demise.  
> Singing along your hellsing lullaby, I gamble with everyone's fate.  
> How I wish to it all be an unsavory lie made by my executioner. I put a noose around my neck and stepped off the cliff, to face a death legacy. I’m “fucked”, as some of my memories attest me. All being said, whenever you can’t tell where the tale turned into tragedy; And won't utter the premise aloud, afraid of thoughts manifesting themselves true; What is left for you to tell is the now. Ensuing my least favorite time of the season. -Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If I Were To Kiss You  
> Then Go To Hell, I Would.
> 
> So Then I Can Brag With The Devils  
> I Saw Heaven  
> Without Even Entering It."
> 
> -William Shakespeare

[ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wounded_Angel)

**_"The Wounded Angel" (1903) by Hugo Simberg._ **

  
**_“O Death, where is your sting?_ **

**_O Hades, where is your victory?”_ **

**_\- 1 Corinthians 15:55 (New King James Version)_**

* * *

**EXTRATERRESTRIAL DARK ENTITIES**

_~~*"Devil's Cry"*~~ _

* * *

_**Sometimes, my train of thought travels to that passage of time.** _

_**My first memory of…** _

_**Not now "heart".** _

_**Don’t start dreaming about the impossible.** _

_**We won't revive that ancient mirage for the moment being...** _

Undoubtedly, voices inside my head, I’ve tried many times to fathom my existence and meaning, expecting to reach some kind of peace of mind for the lives I’ve reaped.

I expected that I would eventually become numb to the taking of souls, unaffected even.

_I hoped so._

The might I was "blessed" with, is a curse altogether. Damnation.

For each spirit I mow, I reap its life seeds. The good, the bad, and the ugly seed.

See, a blessing for the supposed "dead" one, me, that can now sample what it means to be "alive" and sympathize with the souls I carry, for I've been in their "shoes".

Or that's what my celestial colleagues try to convince me of.

What is the catch, you guys ask, in this trial?

A conspiracy to keep me on my toes.

* * *

_**I get to die again and again.** _

* * *

Well, not me exactly, the bastard's spirit that requires a catalyst.

I don't die at all.

Physically at least...

For a brief instant, they share all emotions and fears they felt when previously alive.

And I'm obliged to be the receiving end for I was born this way, a cum-dumpster really.

If I had eyes, and they wouldn't be rolling off its socket, one could say that every life ever deceased passed through my view.

What happens with life-forces, me being one of them, is that we don't have the remote to change channels, or a switch button if we don't like the programming.

Basically, I am what I am, and have to just deal with it.

As tremendous and majestic entities like to be referred to, we're all just good for nothing in comparison to the _Bearded Old Man_.

* * *

**_Therefore impelled by Him,_**

**_I'm the harvester that plucks the "weeds among the wheat" -_ **

**_To then burn the vile ones._ **

* * *

For everyone's astonishment and record, I'm not a senseless killer, I'm more refined than that, thank you.

Naturally, It’s not good for the deceased's business, _Death Branch chief-in-command,_ to be utterly involved and sank in the Earth realm adversities.

People like to keep me at arm's length.

All things supernatural for a fact.

I don't intend to please anyone's need, however. It's not my manners to give you all a pleasant death, and I even less will be giving anyone **_"_**[ ** _Une petite mort" _ ** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_petite_mort#:~:text=La%20petite%20mort%20\(French%20pronunciation,orgasm%20as%20likened%20to%20death.%22&text=The%20first%20attested%20use%20with,orgasm%22%20was%20only%20in%201882.) on my watch.

Dissatisfaction on the side, as unpractical as impartiality is, it's a requirement on matters such as who will live and who will pass.

Demanding vigilant Justice and Fairness from the adjudicator.

Lucky me then, 'cause I abdicated the judgment duty a long time ago.

Too much accountability.

These days, I'm _trying_ to be more responsible and follow the Higher Ups propositions...

Going on, a ripple effect on all kinds of citizens of the world-known and beyond, the invisible ones, is always to be expected.

 **Change** is the Universe's currency. One of the universal laws, seeking souls to buy the free-will coke.

Constantly being triggered by a chain of actions.

* * *

**_Only the rock I throw on the seas of life,_**

**_Tend to cause more livelong consequences than others'._ **

* * *

Sounds like an enormous obligation befalls this keeper of balance.

Who are we kidding? I do mean to cause tsunamis.

Everyone wonders what the king is doing in his closed quarters. No one questions how much compromise one can take before rebelling from its proverbial role. Before setting its kingdom on fire dooming it all in.

The only order we will ever achieve is disorder.

Chaos is the ruling force behind all existence, this much I know.

It’s from the chaos I was birthed, so familiar it's my second nature and is from the chaos I'll go down with.

My primary power? Is being able to be omnipresent.

No, I’m not the Lord of all lords, good-goodness.

Too much on His plate too…

My ability to be everywhere is from the intrinsic essence in all things living, where there is life, there follow death and its illness.

For every cell that the human body gives birth to, another shall die.

This is my power, rebirth. The infinite loop of transformation.

**The Butterfly's effect.**

Knowing me better by now, I’m far from being committed.

This I've proven many centuries, across every realm I installed myself in.

I do take pride in my craft, "The Black Plague", though, my _'magnum opus'._

But, as a matter-of-fact, there’s nothing I loathe more than to be stuck in a desk called **Destiny**.

 _Free-will_ my ass.

Again, the shittiest propaganda ever disseminated.

Excuse me for my poor choices of expressing my discontentment for I'm always expected to be by others as the benevolent death.

Fair, prim, and proper, all times compassionate and with a quick feet.

_~~*A nonsensical promise of renewing and redemption -~~_

_~~As I guide the lost and unevolved souls to a “better” world where the hurt is foreign.*~~ _

Not the case with me. Maybe in a different place and time, other circumstances, and with several reincarnations, I could show more mercy to God’s people.

Not today, Satan. Or should I say, **Mundus**?

Yes, I’m talking to you bitch.

If Satan is as repulsive as they say, I’ll gladly compare your disgraceful self to your biblical equivalent.

Enough of summoning your name for now.

 _* ~~We had an irrelevant past together, long story short.*~~_

You can try to picture the _Eternal Damnation_ landscape all you want.

Good luck on it, for Its design is forever mutable.

A personalized Hell some report it.

It's immeasurable as well, for this prison doesn’t have a port you can easily exit.

The ones stuck here, without a doubt, have a hard time leaving this infernal maze.

Interestingly enough, can be shaped in the worst highway bathroom you visited.

Nightmarish, right?

Guilty on other hand, can gnaw you inside out.

Not a pleasant sensation either...

But how did Hell accomplish the renown for being the highest-level security site ever made...

Have you ever tried to run away from your incubus only to fail miserably after vain attempts?

How can one escape a prison inside yourself when you are both the sufferer and perpetrator of pain?

It sure is spooky to be in some minds...

Well, that's self-made Hell ordered for you.

Why my distaste for such matters all of the sudden?

Just because I happened to encounter myself in the present dilemma and burden of a job.

* * *

_**The trial of babysitting demons.** _

* * *

Since The greatest rebellion of devils brought by the one and only Legendary, Fabled, Dark Knight **Sparda** , and thereafter his sealing of the Demon World;

I was tasked with the sole mission of keeping them busy no matter what. No escapes are allowed.

For the most part, my siblings, the heavenly Supreme Court, exchanged me for the peace of the human world.

Also to atone some of my minor sins...

~~_*Cough, cough, like losing my immaculate "maidenhead".*_~~

I do some magic trick here and there on these hideous monsters, tore a leg or two from a Behemoth once in a while, and have everyone fighting for survival, providing the needed distraction, so long that anyone who dares to leave this inferno to terrorize humans will have to confront me.

Yes, dictator vibes.

Proceeding on the subject at hand,

Sparda's name alone generates mixed reactions on the hottest-land I've tread.

His antics are "respectfully" badmouthed nonstop by many of his former subjects,

Whining and whimpering surely being heard by sensitive earth-born beings.

Their laments in unison create a dreadful accord, behind thick walls made of forfeiture and forsake.

Cannibalized weaklings shout for a different response than the daily atonement its inhabitants suffer.

Prayers are sent from the underworld to the earth beyond this imprisonment,

Trusting that a fool will channel them away from these pits.

It has been a long and tiresome war between humans and _not-anymore-celestial-entities_ and all other parties involved.

Many losses naturally...

Sure, more like a slaughter for the human side of the war, If I'm being honest, who reached its pinnacle on the death-toll.

Death’s ratings never before ranged in an astounding height-scale as on the last days of the Great Spiritual War.

For me, meant more paperwork, of course.

I’m not biting the hand that feeds me.

That period at least...

As I was saying, my new dilemma is, that these recent days, as in demon-world kind of days,

I was invited, _sentenced to death in my perception,_ by my fellow angelic mates, the remaining of them since the said war,

To continue a non-stop labor of keeping in check the little tailed estranged cousins of ours for a possible _indefinite_ period.

Sounds like enslavement on my part.

Getting rid of the big devil plus the little ones.

Two birds, one stone.

Birth-rates must be sky-rocketing.

Everyone happy, coupling, while the **Grim Reaper** is occupied.

Daddy was always fond of fat, grimy, tiny lamblike creatures known as babies.

Don't see their appeal.

Being the one designated of the caretaking of daemons, I was dragged in the middle of the mayhem.

Precisely being served as a walking decoy to these monstrous-looking faces.

Can't be exigent, I suppose.

Chastised for centuries beside devils, we found ourselves, ironically, cellmates.

Make no mistake, I'm in no place to call the shots in this realm.

You see, these repulsive beings try to taunt me here for not belonging.

Not that I ever wanted or will, this place is one of the most challenging dens I’ve traversed.

I don’t belong here, as I don’t belong anywhere.

I’m always in amidst it all, never settling.

Even demons have a home, right, their prison, but home nevertheless.

Don't mind the drama, for I'm not calling for sympathy.

It’s the least useful thing down here, I know for a fact.

But I had to muster gracefulness long enough to tolerate their pathetic demon-hierarchy.

I could very much just drag out these _demonic-language-scribed_ stakes, _* ~~Latin for scholars*,~~_ that are currently impaling me.

Mockingly being displayed as [**_Inverted Hangedman_**. ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hanged_Man_\(Tarot_card\))

But a show is what this tough crowd of dragons want, and entertainment is what they're getting.

Undermine me, humiliate me even, for your soul's joy,

I'm buying you all time...

Go ahead and assert your profane power over me.

Why? My generosity is running low for you simpleton flock of sadists.

You above all, are beasts that have nothing better to do than align yourselves to punish your personal Punisher.

I could respect that if it didn't cost me my skin.

* * *

**_Death is not a leisure thing for us immortals, still._ **

* * *

In other words, I’m Hades, the torturer who changed seats, unwillingly, with its tormented foes.

They've been trying their best to give me Hell. Their home-grown kind of hell.

Beautiful.

If I were to be frank, this whole ordeal is nothing more than a mere nuisance.

Just sit back at ease, will you Death? If you close your eyes and pretend you're on Earth, watching one big epic Greek-roman play...

Only we're not, and the sequence of frames that are pounding my psyche is rather grotesque.

I like telenovelas better.

_Yes, go ahead Baal, pour all your love on me._

**Kiss me on the mouth, will you?**

Now, in my defense, I could argue that all I ever did with them was hazards of the labor.

Having some of them expelled to insipid neverlands; Crushed to nonexistence; Or tortured for a life's eternity;

Such lifetime in which you can’t even draw a breath of fatigue and plead mercy for deaf ears above...

 _It's really unfortunate_ that the raging scream is the only orchestra I've acquainted myself in this brief passage of mine.

Dark humor aside, what all these less-than-animal creatures will soon experience, is the awareness that they're sentenced to an unending agony, for their misplaced hope in the late leader Mundus, _the-one-who-shall-not-be-named._

Hope for what exactly? Mutiny?

They should have known better. They already tried that card too many times.

You can attest through eras that demons aren’t precisely famed for their wits.

They like it dirty and raw. Not in the fun way humans joke about.

Bloody, messy, grotesque, really vomit-inducing pain.

All of this, for the excitement of every diabolical viewer, on the so-awaited sacrificial spectacle.

Death's deathbed.

I’m "trapped", as we speak, in the middle of a great pentagram chanted by them.

Could it all be more cliché?

The sons-of-bitch, _* ~~Lilith for the intimate ones*,~~ _pinned me like rags on a clothing line, and what better place for celebration than ol' "Vale of Lamentations"?

Known by the residents as Hell's gateway.

My soul's nailed by countless stakes piercing through my spirit.

The pain? It’s insufferable and aggravating by the seconds, wounds that won't ever close for it leaves a phantom pain behind the infliction.

This kind of pain amounts to the weight of tons of evil iniquities, which belonged to these devils and their comrades.

Payback time for them. Misery for me.

Memories flooded of a lifetime of battling, their fall from the godhead, innermost fears that haunt them in every corner, causing them to do such savageries among themselves and ultimately their nemesis, humanity, befalls upon me.

A sort of pain that arouses madness they hold, currently forms an empathy link within me, shared when a soul is to be harvested.

* * *

_**I can see, feel, and taste the sorrow**._

* * *

All their senses become mine. Their bodies are mine. I am them, as much as I am myself.

 _On a positive note_ , the optimistic could say, I get to "know" what **love** is if one of them ever get to experience it before, which I highly doubt.

Everything becomes so vivacious, that for a moment I dread the idea of losing self-conscience.

There is no limit between me and you, everything becomes blurred, a scenario that _frightens_ me very much.

I told time after time, that I’m not your regular Reaper.

Don’t like to follow the Book of Laws, for I know only to nurture my desires.

Just heard some clown here saying I'm only God's errand hound without apparent tethers,

"Cursing" me as a false [**_"Do what thou wilt"_**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thelema) icon.

Bullshit.

If anything, I'm flattered of being undesirable for them as well.

However, as I tasted the blood of **Eva** , Sparda’s mortal beloved, in my insides, I almost retched with disgust, _primarily._

Was reminded of Mundus' vanity project carried on by the horde of demons that attacked hers and Sparda’s offspring on that fateful earthly day.

Eva, what this unfortunate Helen of Troy suffered is unspeakable.

She paid the price for denying the common sense of **"Not to Bite the Forbidden Fruit".**

* * *

_**Tragedy or causality?** _

* * *

As the link shared becomes more forceful in my core, my soul's moans turn into roars.

Their dark energies being condensed inside me, a dormant bomb awaits for its ignition to spare us all from this turmoil.

I’m stuck on the point of view of demons gorging her appealing tender flesh, however.

She is a sight for sore eyes, I do credit her that, as I masticate her entrails.

More lustful I convey myself by the time I reach the bones.

Forget her heart, I want her soul, her entireness.

I'd compare her carnality to an intricate high-class steak cuisine prepared from a Michelin's awarded chef, demanded by the most exigent meat-eater.

She is that delicious! Tastes like heaven _,_ If my memory serves me well...

As if wickedness never dared to desecrate her.

Now I can finally understand why she was Sparda’s betrothed.

A demon can only presume to attain a semblance of what paradise must be like.

And for him, she was his whole world and more.

Eva’s last thoughts were, _unsurprisingly,_ her family...

This meek being wished to protect them with all her strength till the end.

She reeks of devotion and love.

If rainbows could be bottled in a flask of whiskey, they would be labeled and sold after her, leaving anyone who went as near as smelling it, to be in a tipsy, screwed-state afterward.

Oh yes, she's that addictive.

Intoxicates us all, menial wights.

_~~*Yummy sack-of-blood*~~._

She could be a goddess amid humans, revered, to the point of rivaling her divine counterpart in power, for her sole virtues.

Though she wouldn’t be so virtuous if that was the case.

Soulmates, I assume they were, what a distasteful destiny’s jest. 

**_Having a kindred soul connection with a devil._ **

What troubles me more is the comfort I discover as “my” bowel is full of Eva’s digesting corpse.

This rank of blood is unusual, a rare kind. I don't blame any soul who wants her ruby.

Again, this dog has a pedigree.

Satiated is not even close to describing my current feelings.

As I gravitate between all party’s perception of the violent act, I almost yearn for the demon’s palate, where you can find the remains of this carnal angel.

She is for a fact tasty! The ghost of her final hours implores God to emblaze her children's images in her spirit’s remembrance.

She wants her happiness secured and beside her as a memento, to maybe then, have a peaceful departure.

Sordid ending for a promising family…

Oh Well, the butterfly’s flapped their wings, destroying the family's little Garden of Eden _,_ and the rest is surely history.

Which forces me yet again, to be present in my actual predicament here.

To be a good bait or not to be a Belial’s little toy.

**God Damnit!**

My Father will have to endure my shenanigans once again.

He can forgive me later – for more millennia - for I choose to maintain the role of the ungrateful, rebellious child.

I’m not going to entertain furthermore these deranged gremlins with their stupid revenge fetishes.

Go find someone else to torture with boredom.

I’ll eat them all up for all I care, with the famine that this Deathless Brute carries inside its etherial belly.

* * *

_**It's berserk time.**_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # 'Do What Thou Wilt'; "Thelema (/θəˈliːmə/) is an esoteric and occult social or spiritual philosophy and new religious movement developed in the early 1900s by Aleister Crowley, an English writer, mystic, and ceremonial magician. The word thelema is the English transliteration of the Koine Greek noun θέλημα (pronounced [θélɛ:ma]), 'will', from the verb θέλω (thélō): 'to will, wish, want or purpose'."
> 
> "Crowley asserted or believed himself to be the prophet of a new age, the Æon of Horus, based upon a spiritual experience that he and his wife, Rose Edith, had in Egypt in 1904. By his account, a possibly non-corporeal or 'praeterhuman' being that called itself Aiwass contacted him (through Rose) and subsequently dictated a text known as The Book of the Law or Liber AL vel Legis, which outlined the principles of Thelema. (...) 'Do what thou wilt' shall be the whole of the Law, meaning that adherents of Thelema should seek out and follow their true path, i.e. find or determine their True Will." 
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # The Hangedman; "The Hanged Man (XII) is the twelfth trump or Major Arcana card in most traditional Tarot decks. It is used in game playing as well as in divination. It depicts a pittura infamante (pronounced [pitˈtuːra iɱfaˈmante]), an image of a man being hanged upside-down by one ankle (the only exception being the Tarocco Siciliano, which depicts the man hanged by the neck instead). This method of hanging was a common punishment at the time for traitors in Italy. However, the solemn expression on his face traditionally suggests that he is there by his own accord, and the card is meant to represent self-sacrifice more so than it does corporal punishment or criminality." 
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # Wheel of Fortune; "Wheel of Fortune (X) is one of 78 cards in a tarot deck and is the tenth trump or Major Arcana card in most Tarot decks. It is used in game playing as well as in divination. (...) A common aspect to most interpretations of this card within a reading is to introduce an element of change in the querent's life, such change being in station, position or fortune: such as the rich becoming poor, or the poor becoming rich."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # The Parabole of the Wheat and Tares (Matthew 13:24-30);
> 
> # 'Une Petite Mort'; "'La petite mort' (French pronunciation: [la pətit mɔʁ], the little death) is an expression which means "the brief loss or weakening of consciousness" and in modern usage refers specifically to 'the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death.'"
> 
> -Wikipedia


	3. Pandora's Heart-Shaped Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be careful when you cast out your demons that you don’t throw away the best of yourself.”
> 
> -Friedrich Nietzsche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "O Prince, O Chief of many Throned Powers,  
> That led th' imbattelld Seraphim to Warr  
> Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds  
> Fearless, endanger'd Heav'ns perpetual King;
> 
> And put to proof his high Supremacy,  
> Whether upheld by strength, or Chance, or Fate,  
> Too well I see and rue the dire event,  
> That with sad overthrow and foul defeat  
> Hath lost us Heav'n, and all this mighty Host  
> In horrible destruction laid thus low,
> 
> As far as Gods and Heav'nly Essences  
> Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains  
> Invincible, and vigour soon returns,  
> Though all our Glory extinct and happy state  
> Here swallow'd up in endless misery."
> 
> "Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,  
> Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat  
> That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom  
> For that celestial light? 
> 
> Be it so, since he  
> Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid  
> What shall be right: fardest from him his best  
> Whom reason hath equald, force hath made supream  
> Above his equals.
> 
> Farewel happy Fields  
> Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrours, hail  
> Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell  
> Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings  
> A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.  
> The mind is its own place, and in it self  
> Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.
> 
> What matter where, if I be still the same,  
> And what I should be, all but less then he  
> Whom Thunder hath made greater?
> 
> Here at least  
> We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built  
> Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:  
> Here we may reign secure, and in my choyce  
> To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:  
> Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n."
> 
> -"Paradise Lost", excerpts.

[ ](https://granger.com/results.asp?image=0108153&itemw=4&itemf=0001&itemstep=1&itemx=18)

**_Frontispiece of Dante's "Divine Comedy" -_ **

**_Showing Dante (in a red robe) being led by Virgil (in a blue robe) through the agonies of hell._**

* * *

**PANDORA'S LITTLE ROTTEN FINGERS**

_~~[Pandemonium](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pand%C3%A6monium_\(Paradise_Lost\)) unleashed~~ _

* * *

** (God's point-of-view chapter narrative) **

The elder son of Sparda and his younger brother, soon after destroying the **Qliphoth** roots in their entirety, found themselves sealed together in the Underworld, much for their annoyance.

After defeating countless minions spawns from hell, and bantering each other every second of it, they both started to breed a form of weariness.

Boredom, for the familiarized ones…

The power the twins withhold can easily overpower a mighty devil. So, naturally, the lesser ones, prove to be more a nuisance than a challenge for them.

If anything, these demons only had inconvenience as their ultimate weapon. And it was showing to be effective against the brothers.

The two of them at some point, contemplated if the Hell they’ve accustomed themselves so long ago grew in size or changed “furniture”.

They concluded their fatigue was getting the best of them.

A minor threat manifests a major problem in the long run.

What can they do?

They already saved the world once again, _one of them more times than the other..._

So their current appointment is to finish what they began.

A sentiment of distaste, they equally share since infants, cleaning the dinner table…

When **Vergil** stopped counting the number of “Jackpot!” his brother mocked their slain enemies with, which seemed perpetual in his opinion, he concentrated his efforts on finding a solution to the most pressing issue at hand, exiting the Netherlands.

 **Dante** , on the other hand, was a kid again, in a hellish amusement park with his older brother. Even if their visitation has proven to be effective plan-wise but tiresome nonetheless, they both could ascertain that their rivalry and grudge was put aside in favor of _healthy_ bickering.

  * “Dante? DANTE!” Vergil commenced losing his remaining patience.
  * “WHAT!?” Dante said while shooting an Empusa between its eyes.
  * “We need to trace a plan to get back to Earth!” saying through gritted teeth, as he killed another lookalike demon. He was definitely testing his patience limits dealing with Dante and an infinite horde of demons at the same time…
  * “I thought we just got started on them, big bro! Don’t tell me it’s already your curfew old man!?" Dante said excitedly when seeing his other half in distress.
  * “Why don’t we make a bet out of it then?” Vergil said, waiting to draw his brother’s attention.
  * “I’m all ears Verg…” Dante’s interest was suddenly peaked. This sibling quarrel always innate in them.
  * “I’ll step aside for you to eliminate the most you can. If you can match my latest record score of impressive two thousand killings, in the course of five _generous_ minutes, in exchange, I’ll let you satiate your curiosity of who **Nero’s mother** might be…"
  * "If you can, of course, otherwise, If I feel the need to intervene for _your_ sake, I’ll lend you a helping hand.”



Vergil is counting on the challenging-nature and gamble tendencies Dante has, to fall for his bait.

It didn’t take long before Dante was doing all the work on the devils while his twin was cross-legged meditating. Vergil couldn’t care less if Dante “surpassed” his imaginary record score of slaying demons.

He doesn’t count them or keep a record. That would be his younger brother, for he sees weakling demons as a plaything, a worthy adversary on rare occasions.

He, on the contrary, see them as a stepping stone, an obstacle. Not in any possible way, an enemy.

Nevertheless, outwitting one another was always their favorite pastime.

When Dante was done extinguishing almost all the Hell’s wilderness, in the location they were situated, the previous Qliphoth main branch, the remaining family of Empusas, Hell Caina, Hell Judecca, and Hell Antenora, started to retreat with fear for their imminent demise by the devil hunters' hands too.

Only leaving some pesky Pyrobats behind to torment Dante, who killed them off easily with Ebony and Ivory.

This whole situation didn’t serve to break a sweat on him.

As he was returning to Vergil’s side to boast about his fight, about how much it wasn’t a _real_ fight or a threat at any given moment, and to collect his “prize” from the bet, somewhere in this hellhole, not that far from where they stand, something exploded.

If it were a simple explosion, they would’ve brushed it off aside. In this case, it wasn’t.

About seconds later, They were stricken by a sudden huge shift of the winds, hurling them with such force, they only managed to stop because a mountain braked the projection.

Otherwise, they would have flown to the nearby "city".

This unpredicted yet powerful impact, caused Vergil to awake from his deep-state meditation, uncrossing his legs and opening his eyes, he studied the new scenery he was now facing.

He was deeply stuck in a mire mountain with contents he didn’t initially recognize, while his brother, _unfortunately,_ was found pierced by massive cactuses and thorn-like fauna, on the base of the mountain.

He decided to keep the thought of preferring his brother’s predicament than his actual one, to himself, for his clothes were currently filthy. Muddied by something he hoped not to be a giant’s “droppings”.

Dante was trying to shrug off the position he frequently was found in, of being impaled. Something he suffers more than what one would consider being healthy for his aging body, or trivial at this point. He’s a magnet for bad luck. He knows this much.

Well, _ **" C'e**_ ** _st la vie"_** Dante…

These pricks on his skin, however, leave a dolorous pain in its wake, along with _minor_ psychoactive substances that can be compared to LSD to earthrealmers.

Although Dante is not to be considered prudish or is unfamiliar with drugs, he favorites his booze better.

~~_Johnnie-Walker-type-of-guy._ ~~

He doesn’t have fond memories of experimenting with drugs on that, _oh so long ago_ , sex-trip/orgy rave on a remote island he gifted himself as a vacation.

Let’s say he got to revive some of his nightmares and most repressed, questionably intimate fantasies, almost bringing him to a simultaneous cardiac-arrest and raging erection.

A debatable state to be in.

They both stumbled off their respective places and arranged to meet each other on a further lake, away from this insipid land, to wash off their current condition.

Dante was considerably slower than Vergil’s pace, as the effects of the venom were spreading too quickly in his system. Vergil wasn’t having any of that and led ahead to bathe his sorry-ass before anyone other than his drugged-stricken clown-of-a-brother could see him.

As Vergil was stripping his upper clothes off of him, taking considerate measures to not damage further the expensive cloth worth salvaging, he could hear his brother’s nonsensical moaning not far behind him.

Mustering up strengths from nothing, he came flying towards him. Dante tackles down his elder on the extensive lake, and for a hot minute, he tries to submerge his brother on what he envisioned to be chocolate syrup, for he’s reliving childhood memories both shared of fighting for each other’s food.

He doesn’t mind chocolate-flavored food, he does prefer the strawberry-taste on his tongue rather, but his big brother on the contrary, secretly loves it. So to rile him up, he stole all his chocolate cookies when he could, or licked the topping off from his brother's _ **' ** **Fo** r**et Noire'**,_ only leaving some cream behind on his plate, for further frustration of his twin.

Eva, at all times, was intervening in their fights and appeased them with more baked desserts for each one.

One memorable time, Vergil having enough of his brother’s previous antics, charged Dante with a chocolate syrup tube their mother was using to finish the decoration of their anniversary’s cake.

He shoved so much chocolate syrup down Dante’s throat before his mother finally accomplished to separate and pacify them, that Dante had a nightmare case of tummy-ache later that day.

One of Dante’s revenge fantasies for that particular day onwards is to make his brother experience what it feels like to have your insides almost be expelled from the body, alongside your soul.

As in _Diarrhea._

His actual hallucination is that he is giving Vergil an overdue payback for that childhood incident.

Vergil struggles to stay up above the water, the said "chocolate syrup", as his brother pins him under the "huge plate of sweet sauce" lake.

Between a chain of coughs, and retching unknown demonic water now and then, Vergil catches his breath after overpowering his brother and reemerging to the surface.

Not long after their little wrestle, Dante breaks into a peal of hysterical laughter.

One passerby could say he is demented. But knowing his brother, he’s only having fun out of the mess they’re in.

Surprisingly, Vergil’s quiet and contained laughter is to be heard. And they choose to “dip” in the feeling these mysterious waters brought them.

Memories of childhood, in which their only responsibility, was the old tradition of engaging one another.

Having fun nonetheless.

Suddenly, they are kids again. Messy and loud, but innocent kids.

When the feeling was starting to fade away, and their surround along with their current reality sank in, they collected themselves and got to their feet.

Having a mutual, but silent understanding of the bonding time they’re spending together in this “helluva trip”.

They’re grateful for what they've accomplished.

Eva, wherever her soul's resting, _heaven,_ certainly is.

The crystalline azure water served to heal their battle wounds and fatigue. Helped too in alleviating the venom effects on Dante’s bloodstream.

Both sobered up and ready to resume their journey, now discuss the possible meaning behind the powerful explosion and the after match it caused on this region of the Underworld.

  * “So… This big bang, not an ordinary one for the looks of it...” Dante said while walking alongside Vergil, both feeling revigorated,decided to follow the path they came before the potent explosion, to investigate its origins and, hopefully, have a sparring match with this presumably mighty opponent, who managed to take the Sparda’s twins by surprise.
  * “Indeed. I can see that the blasted energy is still lingering, pulsating through all things living in this wasteland. It’s causing a disturbance in the energy levels of everyone, including ours.”



The farther they go, the farther they approach the Unsacred Hellgate, unknown to them, **Death** humorously nicknamed it as _"_ Vale of Lamentations".

Vergil notes that many lesser demons they’re walking into, Chimeras, instead of attacking them instinctively, are running past them.

As Dante readies himself and draw his sword Rebellion, expecting a sudden attack, Vergil starts:

  * “I don’t think they’re going after us…”
  * “What do ya mean? We’re supposed to be their archenemy and all…”
  * “I don’t think they’re running towards _us_. They seem to be running away. From what, we shall know the answer soon…”
  * “Sounds promising enough to me!”



Further ahead of the escaping demons, they saw higher-ranking demons fighting one another or cannibalizing themselves and each other.

The sighting leaves a strange feeling in their mind, for this kind of animalistic behavior is commonly found on the low-ranking ones.

The higher the demon, the more reasonable they become, strategically and urge-wise. In other words, they're supposed to be the intelligent ones in their family.

However, this remaining Proto Angelo seems to be the puppet of his lesser counterpart, Scudo Angelo, in the scene ahead.

Riots and Death Claws when not fighting one another, are trying to attack Baphomets and Lusachias.

As much as Hell is a confusing disorder most of the time, this otherwise familiar realm of the Dark World is overcome by sheer **chaos.**

If Dante voiced his thoughts now, he’d say that something doesn’t sit right in this whole ordeal.

Vergil would give a proper description of the situation they’re testifying.

_A **pandemonium.**_

_But who opened this Pandora’s box?_

For lacking the needed attention, Dante was growing annoyed. He wanted to do his proper job of devil hunting.

In this case, he and his brother were merely bystanders. As if they were an uninteresting ordinary decoration prospect to the demons, they traveled further in the main hall of the Devil Kingdom, with quizzical looks on their faces while everyone ignored them.

After a Queen Empusa eating its minions and itself posteriorly, they paused to analyze the continuous vibrations on their respective souls.

It felt like a giant electromagnet was pulling every fiber of their being towards it, urging their demonic and human side to follow the enigmatic force field.

Voids and small black holes, sucked demons, as they seemingly appeared in random spots. The climatic weather alternated between thunderstorm breaks, summoning more demons from its lightings.

What previously was deemed as a possible adventure for the duo, now in consensus, is treated as it should, a menacing situation.

Both insisting on traversing through this darkling energy that only enlarges and install in their hearts, decide to disregard their surround and focus on the revolted energy just ahead.

Before they can decipher the owner of the said power, huge darkness embraces all the realm’s current residents.

For what feels like an eternity, everything is covered in pitch dark.

_Something turned the lights off._

Jokingly, to “lighten” the mood, Dante takes Vergil’s hand, who promptly dismisses it.

As if darkness never happened, the lights returned, if only, more ferocious, blinding-light, casting everyone in a surge of momentary dissonance, caused by its bright sun rays.

Many lesser demons around the source were set on fire or absorbed by the massive hole, others were pulverized to oblivion.

The big guys that were near the vicinity, self-imploded. The only ones left with less aggravating fates, but not unaffected, were the sons of Sparda.

The quiet after the storm was an unsettling sight.

The only ones who remained alive and almost physically unscathed were harboring a mixed frenzy state of emotions, ranging from rage, lust, to famine, to all the sentiments ever created.

They accessed very much suppressed urges, like the lingering death-wish they have guarded inside, one more than the other.

The desire to set aflame everything, destroying all in their paths.

_Their more human-beast side you may call it._

Self-explaining why these feelings are so repressed.

They both desire some kind of _control_ , particularly, **self-control** , for they know they can’t always be the puppeteer or the Founder of all existing universes.

Imagine how better the world would be without loss or hurting.

_But this isn’t heaven, no._

And igniting everything causes consequences too. So the both of them, in general circumstances, opt for the lesser evil.

The damage control kind-of-choice.

After experiencing every spectrum of the emotional chart... they’re left empty. Back to their current selves. As quickly as the chaos spread, it vanished with the same speed. Leaving two dumbfounded half-devils behind.

  * “What the hell happen-?” A mind-blown Dante started.
  * “I don’t know also.” That was all Vergil could muster in his current startled state.



Their feet grew roots, as they were planted in place for minutes, trying to comprehend what they have just witnessed.

They came back with nothing.

Not even Vergil, recollecting his innumerous supernatural and demonic literature, read in his lifetime, brought him peace of mind.

He was instigated, thrilled even, but bothered at the same time. A challenge they searched for, has certainly been found. 

  * “Well... as much as I’d love to play devil detective with you any other time, more _burning_ demands have my attention now, so Verg…” Dante says as he shamelessly retreats, butt-naked from the blast they took, to the original path they walked in.
  * “What could be more adamant of your attention, than the fact that we just experienced a minor scale [**_Supernova_**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supernova), and _survived_ one on top of that!?” Vergil says while his scorched skin begins to heal.
  * “Aside from still being trapped on this hellhole, my stomach is doing karate! Here take a look! And I don’t think they make pizza-delivery down here, so yeah, I’m a little busy with finding what we’ll have for dinner…”
  * “Argh! Just… Do whatever you want…” Vergil says as he pinches his nose with indignation, trying to contain his ever-present incredulity for his twin.



He is not currently feeling _motivated_.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

[ ](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botticelli_Inferno#/media/Datei:Sandro_Botticelli_-_La_Carte_de_l'Enfer.jpg)

_**Sandro Botticelli - La Carte de l'Enfer ("Map of Hell")** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # 'C'est la vie', means "It's life" in French;
> 
> # Chapter Summary - "Paradise Lost: Book 1" by John Milton (1674 version);
> 
> # 'Foret Noire', means "Black Forest Cake" in French;
> 
> # 'Pandemonium'; "a situation in which there is a lot of noise and confusion because people are excited, angry, or frightened."
> 
> -Cambridge Dictionary
> 
> # Pandora's Box;
> 
> "In Greek mythology, Pandora (Greek: Πανδώρα, derived from πᾶν, pān, i.e. 'all' and δῶρον, dōron, i.e. 'gift', thus 'the all-endowed', 'all-gifted' or 'all-giving') was the first human woman created by Hephaestus on the instructions of Zeus. As Hesiod related it, each god cooperated by giving her unique gifts. Her other name—inscribed against her figure on a white-ground kylix in the British Museum—is Anesidora (Ancient Greek: Ἀνησιδώρα), 'she who sends up gifts' (up implying 'from below' within the earth)."
> 
> "The Pandora myth is a kind of theodicy, addressing the question of why there is evil in the world. According to this, Pandora opened a jar (pithos) (commonly referred to as 'Pandora's box') releasing all the evils of humanity. Hesiod's interpretation of Pandora's story went on to influence both Jewish and Christian theology and so perpetuated her bad reputation into the Renaissance. Later poets, dramatists, painters and sculptors made her their subject and over the course of five centuries contributed new insights into her motives and significance."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # Supernova; 
> 
> "A supernova (/ˌsuːpərˈnoʊvə/ plural: supernovae /ˌsuːpərˈnoʊviː/ or supernovas, abbreviations: SN and SNe) is a powerful and luminous stellar explosion. This transient astronomical event occurs during the last evolutionary stages of a massive star or when a white dwarf is triggered into runaway nuclear fusion. The original object, called the progenitor, either collapses to a neutron star or black hole, or is completely destroyed. The peak optical luminosity of a supernova can be comparable to that of an entire galaxy before fading over several weeks or months."
> 
> "Supernovae are more energetic than novae. In Latin, nova means 'new', referring astronomically to what appears to be a temporary new bright star. Adding the prefix 'super-' distinguishes supernovae from ordinary novae, which are far less luminous. The word supernova was coined by Walter Baade and Fritz Zwicky in 1929."
> 
> -Wikipedia


	4. Elegia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass!  
> Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass!
> 
> Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain;  
> O listen! For the Vale profound It is overflowing with the sound.
> 
> No Nightingale did ever chaunt- More welcome notes to weary bands  
> Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands:  
> A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,  
> Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
> 
> Will no one tell me what she sings?-Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow  
> For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago:  
> Or is it some more humble lay,  
> Familiar matter of to-day?  
> Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
> 
> Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang  
> As if her song could have no ending;  
> I saw her singing at her work, And o’er the sickle bending;  
> I listened, motionless and still;
> 
> And, as I mounted up the hill,  
> The music in my heart I bore,  
> Long after it was heard no more.
> 
> "The Solitary Reaper" by William Wordsworth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Character 
> 
> # Vittorio; "Is an Italian male given name taken from the male name Victor. Italian form of 'Victorius', meaning 'conqueror'."
> 
> -Wikipedia

* * *

**"THE SOLITARY REAPER"**

~~_*Death's Elegia pt. 1*_ ~~

* * *

“Sometimes, my train of thoughts travel to that passage of time.

My first memory…"

My first memory of her, the remembrance I have of my cherished Hosanna, was of instant curiosity, attraction.

Turned gradually into adoration.

She was the first human I ever _personally_ met and formed a bond with.

The one with who I fell in love-at-first-sight.

She was my first and last love in this simple-minded head I possess.

* * *

**_As always, for you and me, all things great must come to an end._ **

* * *

_ **'Memento mori'** _

"Remember that you have to die", _your daily reminder of the unavoidable death_ , my core whispers time from time to appease my broken heart.

Answering the anguishes she causes me since our first encounter…

My only comfort these days, for the hurting I carry with me, is that we’ll eventually come together.

For everyone has to pass through me sooner or later in life.

**She was my first everything.**

**My first defiance. First disobedience, first fall from grace, my imminent doom.**

**The muse who inspired lunacy inside this fool.**

**She was great, yet a mere human female.**

It happened at dawn in the morning, our first contact. An otherwise ordinary day on Human World for the outlandish and ancient **Dumary Island**. Home of diversity itself. Build by the hands of pagan refugees of many beliefs, languages, religions, ethnicities, and origins. Where the differences are celebrated and can coexist.

One of the many beating hearts of culture, the infamous island, was a promised land of freedom.

Something the refugees and exiled people searched for.

Forced to leave behind their homeland, who forsake them foremost, these rebel hearts depart to then discover this foreign territory we stand in today.

In its inception, this village was considered to be founded on dead lands. The weather was dry and hot in the mornings, ice-cold in the nights. The sole arid. The animals, the fauna, and Flora as a whole were exotic.

What happened upon the realization that these lands were precarious conditions for the human species? The same species adapted to its inhospitable environment. A select few, thriving in this desert island till these days.

Hearth of magic, pagan religions, ancient knowledge, and rituals, its people have pride in their unique spirituality and non-prejudiced against any belief practices.

Birthed amidst the fashion of this region, Hosanna inherited the equality mentality, freedom drive, and non-discriminatory behavior from her elders. 

I had no business in the said land.

Ever so peaceful and _boring_ , the most common cause of death was senescence. They maintained for the most part, to our astonishment, diplomatic relations with deities, also known as demons.

The kind of “I rub your back, you rub mine” relationship.

I’m sorry, but, don’t you find this really amusing? A joke even.

To worship us, as saints?

If only they knew…

* * *

**_Well, they soon learned a lesson or two about us._ **

* * *

Just below His glorious heavenly throne, _Paradise Town,_ a leaf fell from its branch.

Not any branch, no, the branch of The Tree of Life, which contains all the names of the living organisms.

Around the first days of Creation, after my disgraceful conception, I have myself delegated the power to mediate matters concerning the life and death of humanity.

Like a child dependent on their parent, I never acted independently, only erasing or adding in the Book of Life, names informed by _Dad._

The fact is, only He knows the time of death of someone.

My role is, generally, not to judge the deceased, but to guide their soul - _Sounds like no-fun, right?_

The thrilling part of the job starts when I’m aware of the human’s deeds during life.

After mediating the life of the dying, I carry out their soul sentence, punishing, or blessing their passage to the Afterlife.

My favorite part, _shocker_ , is the punishment of the bad boys,

As I’m not related to The Mow-Man for nothing.

When the person is good-hearted as a total, I’m prescribed to politely invite them to "The Good Place” as a reward.

They are entitled to a good death. Peaceful and painless. * _ ~~Half-boner~~_ *.

When it comes to the bad ones, I’ve been given authority to commence their new life of torture, by having their soul forcefully ripped from their body.

I fortunately enough am permitted to display my most malevolent side,

Coming to the surface when I’m in charge to punish the sinner with my chosen way of extracting a soul.

I could go on and on with my methods of yanking a soul from its vessel, but I would have to make a bloody journal just for their misadventures with Death here.

For an appetizer, I like to take my time with the said “victim”.

I don’t control the process of when It happens though.

But normally, I don’t need to resort to extreme interventions.

Humans alone do the job, _pretty well,_ of judging who shall live and how someone shall die on this Earth.

For the Judgment part, my brothers and sisters once tried to push this duty to my desk too.

Of course, I denied it till death and got away somehow.

Who continues to be in charge of being "Judge Judy" of the spiritual world till this present day is Him.

I usually sever the ties that hold the body and spirit, with a scissor, a knife, a sword, or a chainsaw if I’m feeling like it.

Mostly I prefer to use my beloved scythe, ordered from a trusted swordsmith, after the rumors of me having one in my possession...

Proceeding with my affairs in Dumary Island;

Before I came down to this desert’s sands, I gave prior notice to the future deadman that I would come after him.

I visited his dreams, around forty days before his date of death, giving time enough for him to repent from his sins.

If he got the message that time, that his time has finally come -

So many things would be different nowadays.

* * *

On that memorable day, I was asked by Father to guide a soul to the afterlife.

Apparently, this soul was an important one, for God Himself requested a whole ceremony for this taking.

Being informed briefly, only his name, of the soon-to-be deceased, I parted to meet my latest assignment.

It’s not always I receive a direct order from Above to execute a human. 

More unusual than that, is to be ordered to descend to Earth.

* _ ~~I’m used to receiving Heaven’s fax, and emails.*~~_

On top of that, I was instructed to come as the [**_personification of Death_**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_\(personification\)) for the collection of this noted soul.

On any ordinary day, you can meet me as a spirit, a specter, but not that fateful day.

On normal occasions, I would have my subordinates collect common souls.

Crows, ravens, bats, vultures, and other animals people deem as the presage of death.

Got to keep the appearances.

Only the _notable ones_ were to ever encounter me in “person”.

Being these notable ones praised by their goodness or evilness, wasn’t the point.

But I do like to see these remarkable souls who dared to save the world or wreck it further, in general.

* * *

_**No good deed goes unpunished.** _

* * *

Upon accepting one more incumbency of getting rid of a sinner, I went after my latest task.

The shameful man’s name was **Vittorio**.

Maybe. I don’t know…

Didn’t pay much attention to him, or his last name, it all didn’t matter to me.

It _should_ be a simple extraction of the soul like all others prior to him.

Be him a saint, prophet, or devil incarnate.

He wasn’t your average person at that time and age.

Not a farmer or merchant, not a servant, not a beggar.

He was a well-known and powerful prince in the European lands.

As I don’t discriminate against people, for I don’t have eyes, only “see” auras, I didn’t give a shit about his terrain position.

Here in these distant lands, his treatment should be of a proper highness, for he was an extension of the king’s powerful kingdom.

His word was to be obeyed, in expectation of future ties with the famous capital.

It isn’t hard to imagine what these prospects suggest for a power-hungry man.

To be away from his royal duties and gossiping mouths of his natal home, he found himself free from his golden cage.

If only he was a good man, I could pity his soul…

Maybe I could piss on the fire that still burns his heavy conscience to this day.

But I won’t.

No mercy for him.

As I was saying, he came to this desert, with a purpose few had knowledge of.

The official statement was that the kingdom wanted to make public and diplomatic relations with Dumary Island, recognizing and supporting the territory in its independence.

The extra-official, off-the-records affair, ~~* _and main one*_~~ was that the said prince was after its antic treasury and paganism rituals, for he delved in the occult arts in private, contrary to the monotheism he preached back home.

On his first weeks on the dry land, he terrorized everything that crossed his path.

He celebrated day and night, succumbing to his primal needs. As in fornication and drinking.

For somewhere deep in his putrid soul, he knew his time was short, and Death was already lurking around.

One secret he swore to take with him to his grave, and I shall tell you, is that he lost his gold member in his younger reckless days…

He contracted, what is considered these days to be, a sexually transmitted infection after fucking a prestigious whore on the capital.

Only half of his penis could be saved, for the rest formed a kind of necrosis due to negligence of health, added to his deviant, depraved sexual nature.

_Yes, he fucked every moving thing, most of them, without their consent._

Now that his hardworking and underpaid Guardian Angels stepped aside,

Allowing me to enter the picture-

He was left unprotected with miserable twenty days on this realm.

_~~*They very much gave up on this guy, not blaming them though.*~~ _

What would you do in his place?

Well, whatever advice you’d give him, he felt something break inside, his heart and mind, for he was growing desperate to prolong somehow his life, which was soon coming to an end.

He was informed by the royal doctor, upon his health deterioration, that his previously not-treated infection originated on the mutilated member, had spread to other parts of his body, reserving a not-so-pleasant destiny ahead of him. _Karma, they say._

In a fit of rage, facing what he sees as injustice towards someone like him, he grows more impulsive day by day, living by the quote “You only live once”.

He made one brothel his habitation, for it was the only place he visited and stepped on the island;

Wanted his departure to be like in his prime time when he was jovial, active, and imposing.

Not this walking cadaver.

A talking skeleton, that exhales illness and loathed his faltering steps and himself for his current misery.

With nothing else to do than wait, I've pestering this human everywhere he went, being his shadow, trying to picture who he was and who I was dealing with.

On a rather trivial day, he began his walks to ponder about life, around the river, near the famed brothel he was guest of honor-

 **“Night-Cherubim”** , a luxurious whorehouse that provided ladies of all ages and preferences, for the satisfaction of the above-average patrons.

Vittorio, however, was certain he did about everything and everyone in this Human World, so satisfaction seemed like a far-fetched dream for him, even more after his impending expiration.

So he focused his remaining energies on finding a solution for his troubles.

The meaning of his name, precedes him on his mind, for he's a “winner”.

The entourage he brought with him to the island, consisted of trusted counselors of the throne as well as fellow cultic members.

All familiarized with sacrificial rituals in favor of a greater good.

Their vision of good, of course.

While sacrifices of animals are practices present in many cultures and somewhat accepted by the majority, there are more unconventional and controversial types of sacrifices and offerings to _gods_ , such as the life of your progenitor, a little boy or girl, and/or a new-born.

A must-have for all demon-worshippers.

For thousands of years in Dumary Island, a portion of the villagers began to worship a new sovereign entity. **Argosax the Chaos**.

This founded denomination gained force and adepts for their link with the then ruler of the Underworld.

_~~*A pity I didn’t stay to see the final outcome.*~~_

This Information being delivered to him by his subordinates, Vittorio began his plans of making a deal with the devil.

Not just a common devil, the evilest demon that we’ve come to know in recent history…

**_Human stupidity has no limits._ **

**_You can't bribe death,_**

**_Much less sell something that isn’t yours._ **

**_All souls pertain to God._ **

**_What demons commonly do, is deceive their worshippers to think that they have power over someone’s life or death._ **

**_And that’s the case of stupid Vittorio, l_** **_ong ago blinded by his own ignorance_. **

As a custom, for now, I accompanied him in his morning walks by the river.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks, as he saw someone bathing in it.

Not anyone he knew of in particular.

At first, glance could be just a commoner.

However, he was pulled towards this strange figure, and so he hid between the river’s vast garden of desert-roses.

We both passed the next hour watching,

That beautiful naked maiden bathe her unblemished skin -

She, who later would become the heroine of my dreams.

**Hosanna**.

Have you ever met someone who changed your innermost existence?

Who touched your soul so profoundly, you never been the same since?

I never believed in **serendipity** before her...

The only floret to sprout on the winter of my desert, she would become.

* * *

_**Oh, how jealous I was of that water dripping from her skin!** _

* * *

[ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kuoleman_Puutarha_by_Hugo_Simberg.jpg)

**_"Kuoleman Puutarha" by Hugo Symberg_ **

_**"There is a Reaper, whose name is Death-** _  
_**And, with his sickle keen,** _  
_**He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,** _  
_**And the flowers that grow between.** _

_**'Shall I have naught that is fair?' Saith he;** _  
_**'Have naught but the bearded grain?** _  
_**Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,** _  
_**I will give them all back again.'** _

_**He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,** _  
_**He kissed their drooping leaves;** _  
_**It was for the Lord of Paradise** _  
_**He bound them in his sheaves.** _

_**'My Lord has need of these flowerets gay.'** _  
_**The Reaper said, and smiled;** _  
_**'Dear tokens of the earth are they,** _  
_**Where He was once a child.'** _

_**'They shall all bloom in fields of light,** _  
_**Transplanted by my care,** _  
_**And saints, upon their garments white,** _  
_**These sacred blossoms wear.'** _

_**And the mother gave, in tears and pain,** _  
_**The flowers she most did love;** _  
_**She knew she should find them all again** _  
_**In the fields of light above.** _

_**Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath,** _  
_**The Reaper came that day;** _  
_**'T was an angel visited the green earth,** _  
_**And took the flowers away."** _

_**"The Reaper and the Flowers" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # Elegia; Italian noun translated as 'elegy'.  
> "A song of mourning;  
> A poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead;  
> Written in elegiac couplets, as notably by Catullus and Propertius (in Greek and Roman poetry)."
> 
> -Cambridge Dictionary
> 
> # Memento mori;
> 
> "(Latin for 'remember that you [have to] die') is an artistic or symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death. The expression memento mori developed with the growth of Christianity, which emphasized Heaven, Hell, and salvation of the soul in the afterlife. The 2nd-century Christian writer Tertullian claimed that during his triumphal procession, a victorious general would have someone (in later versions, a slave) standing behind him, holding a crown over his head and whispering 'Respice post te. Hominem te memento' ('Look after you [to the time after your death] and remember you're [only] a man.'). Though in modern times this has become a standard trope, in fact no other ancient authors confirm this, and it may have been Christian moralizing rather than an accurate historical report."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # Personification Of Death;
> 
> "(Judaism) The Rabbis found the Angel of Death mentioned in Psalm 89:48, where the Targum translates: 'There is no man who lives and, seeing the Angel of Death, can deliver his soul from his hand.' Eccl. 8:4 is thus explained in Midrash Rabbah to the passage: 'One may not escape the Angel of Death, nor say to him, 'Wait until I put my affairs in order,' or 'There is my son, my slave: take him in my stead'.' Where the Angel of Death appears, there is no remedy, but his name (Talmud, Ned. 49a; Hul. 7b). If one who has sinned has confessed his fault, the Angel of Death may not touch him (Midrash Tanhuma, ed. Buber, 139). God protects from the Angel of Death (Midrash Genesis Rabbah lxviii.)."
> 
> "By acts of benevolence, the anger of the Angel of Death is overcome; when one fails to perform such acts the Angel of Death will make his appearance (Derek Ereẓ Zuṭa, viii.). The Angel of Death receives his orders from God (Ber. 62b). As soon as he has received permission to destroy, however, he makes no distinction between good and bad (B. Ḳ. 60a). In the city of Luz, the Angel of Death has no power, and, when the aged inhabitants are ready to die, they go outside the city (Soṭah 46b; compare Sanh. 97a). A legend to the same effect existed in Ireland in the Middle Ages (Jew. Quart. Rev. vi. 336)."
> 
> -Wikipedia


	5. Altar Of Venus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is pink? A rose is pink  
> By a fountain's brink.
> 
> What is red? A poppy's red  
> In its barley bed.
> 
> What is blue? The sky is blue  
> Where the clouds float thru'.
> 
> What is white? A swan is white  
> Sailing in the light.
> 
> What is yellow? Pears are yellow,  
> Rich and ripe and mellow.
> 
> What is green? The grass is green,  
> With small flowers between.
> 
> What is violet? Clouds are violet  
> In the summer twilight.
> 
> What is orange? Why, an orange,  
> Just an orange!"
> 
> "Color" by Christina Rossetti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # "Altar of Venus", slang term for female genitalia (1584);
> 
> # "Put the Devil in the Hell", slang term for sexual intercourse (1616);
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Original Character
> 
> # Hosanna;  
> ho·san·na /hōˈzanə/exclamation  
> (especially in biblical, Judaic, and Christian use) used to express adoration, praise, or joy.
> 
> "'Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.'"
> 
> Chapter and dialogues inspired by A-ha's "Hunting High and Low" song.

[ ](https://hamptonsarthub.com/2014/07/29/art-review-once-more-with-feeling/web_figgis2/)

**_"Making Love with the Devil" (2014) by Genieve Figgis._ **

* * *

**"PUT THE DEVIL IN THE HELL"**

~~_*Death's Elegia pt. 2*_ ~~

* * *

  * “Come away with me. Let’s run away together.” I say while my tongue is working between her legs.
  * “Where would you take me!?” Hosanna chuckles. She must find my proposition amusing, or I’m doing something right down there. Probably both.
  * **“To the moon and back.”** I say solemnly.
  * “I can’t give you nothing, but everything. Whatever you ask of me, it shall be done.” I confess amidst the sweat and heat of the moment. She’s smiling now, illuminating the already bright brothel’s room. She rivals the light of the midday sun.
  * “You know… making love to you, is something else entirely. You’re different from all my other lovers.” Now she’s the one to confess. “My” heart skip a beat hearing those words. Never imagined they’d worth so much. But coming from her, even insults turn me on.
  * “For my ego and pride, I’ll take it as a compliment… My fingers are already crossed.” I make myself vulnerable this moment. Three little words could destroy my whole world. And three simple words could give me life I never knew I could possess…
  * “It’s a compliment for sure. Making love to you… is like I’m making love to someone’s first time. It’s otherworldly this kind of pleasure. The kind you feel honored to witness. Like you never experienced love before…?” She says and I’m left speechless. I stop my machinations on her flush labia. Savoring her juices slowly. My desire for her only augmented by this moment. I lock eyes with her with intensity, letting them do the talking instead. She provokes me so many new emotions, that I fear for us both…
  * “Are you calling me a virgin?” The atmosphere is hot as it is, dense, passionate, and intimate. I can’t navigate these waters yet. I stick two fingers inside her hole, escalating the rhythm bit by bit.
  * “Yes! You could say that!” She’s pleased I can see. She’s very honest about her feelings. It’s written all over her face. This woman is the type you want to give joy more than anything. As if your life depended on it. I’m addicted. I have eyes only for her.
  * “Come my way dear. I want to drink from your pools.” I say on her ear, with one hand on her private parts and the other gently on her jaw. I want to tear her ass softly. I treat her rose cave with veneration. Even if she showed me thorns, she would still be my delicate flower nonetheless.
  * “I’m seeing stars…” She says breathlessly. I insert more fingers inside as I kiss her, tasting her moans. She gives a yell while holding my arms for grounding. She’s losing herself. I go down there one more time never averting my eyes from her. She’s the center of my attention. I listen to her body. She’s reaching…
  * “OH, GOOD LORD!” She comes on my mouth. I flavor the honey inside her hive. Sweet nectar. Good Lord indeed! Never wasting a drop, as I clean all the traces of her pleasure. I could kiss these rosy petals for their sole gratuitous beauty. She’s priceless.



I never felt more exposed in my entire existence than this moment. Nothing compares to this. It’s so raw it hurts. Scares me.

Regardless of my fear of the unknown, I stay pillowed on her chest. She’s caressing my back with so much fondness, almost as if I am lovable.

I feel so _undeserving_. I should be the one adoring this creature.

Yet, I can’t move. So I close my eyes and bask in the bliss.

Not long after, we sleep through the day in each other’s arms...

_**I only met her ten days ago by the river’s garden of desert roses.** _

_~~*Put on hold my original assignment for some days, also known as, harvesting Vittorio's soul.~~_

_~~Why spoil this marvelous moment by bringing him to the picture?~~ _

_~~You’ll see…*~~ _

_**I** _ **_realized some instants in life can truly last for eternity._ **

_**And that’s what it felt when she looked my way.** _

_~~*Vittorio drew her attention to the bushes that were moving.~~_

_~~He was jerking off, his lame excuse of a penis, to her view.~~ _

_~~Revolting piece of shit.~~ _

_~~She wrapped her bath time, gathering her stuff as fast as she could.*~~ _

_**She really caught my eye, so I was convicted of seeing her face again,** _

_**So beautiful that it’s the only truth I dare to acknowledge.** _

_**My dearest brother would smile if he saw my expression.** _

_**But if I were to face the hard truth, I’ll never be with her.** _

_**However, I only wish to share with her a moment that lasts till the end...** _

_**So there a decided to forsake my wings.** _

_**I wanted my own kind of heaven.** _

_~~*This, my siblings would frown upon.~~_

_~~Perhaps, more than they usually do when it comes to me.*~~ _

In the afternoon, I dragged myself wherever Vittorio would go. While his servants were making all the preparations for the _satanic ritual_ , to buy him some more time on this Earth, he on The others hand, was “busy” on finding who the mysterious woman was.

Well, now this sparked my interest.

It didn’t take long for him to discover the name of this Venus on flesh. He described her figure, _ever perceptive,_ to the brothel-keeper he was staying at.

"Night-Cherubim" madam, informed him she was one of her new girls, provided from one of the local orphanages.

This girl’s name was Hosanna, for she looked angel-like. She only started her career as a sex worker, and already has a demand for her “services”. The crowd of admirers is growing for the madam's contentment.

For some reason, although “infatuated” by this young woman, prince Vittorio felt a peasant in her presence, not approaching her since the unforgettable day by the river.

Living up to his stalking, predatory nature, he could only watch her from afar. Until he grew a pair to "serenade" her, for my entertainment.

He couldn’t have done a better proposal for a lady. He booked her services for the whole week, not leaving her a choice to negate his advances.

If it were just business, she could've swallowed the bile he induces anyone who spends more than two minutes near him. But being cornered is something she won’t stand for.

She values too much her freedom, after being passed around her foster families. To eventually be tossed again to another orphanage.

She ran away from him on her third day as his sex-slave and trophy conquest. He was the worst to her while saying she could be his future queen. He makes her feel less than what she really is, beneath him. She was utterly used by him.

Even as a whore, she was more respected than one night in his quarters.

And that’s when I came on the scene. For a second, I almost believe I was the “knight in shining armor”, and her, my rescued princess.

I would exchange the world, to consider for a minute that, that could be the end of my story.

* * *

**_Yes, let’s pretend happy end._ **

* * *

I possessed one of Hosanna’s coworkers. A retired prostitute who served as a housekeeper on the establishment, using the physical body as a vessel to get to her and gain her trust.

I aided her to escape from "Night-Cherubim" on that dreadful night. She was found battered on the corridor, after rejecting the prince’s orders. I followed her cry for help, nobody came, except for me.

I had to convince her to leave all behind and come along with me. We could escape her hell. Our hell.

We would manage somehow to escape our destiny, and ourselves. Freedom is what we envisioned.

Gullible as she is, proceeded to tell me her life story of mistreatment on the same night, from the orphanage till her days as a whore, after we found a hiding place in the land's fauna. 

Still today, I don’t know how she can be the most compassionate being I had the felicity to encounter.

She forgives her past, forgives herself. Even forgives her abusers somehow.

I, on the contrary, want to open the gates of hell and see the world aflame, because.

I do know my time is short beside her.

It saddens me immensely the prospect of losing this little home we made. Far from the outside madness, on the outskirts of the island...

On the same night before our slumber-

Still on the hide from the crazed prince,

We've planned to depart shortly after taking our morning meal.

Your royalty not only was rejected but lost one of his properties for the first time in his life.

If he was messing the city up upon his arrival, after Hosanna "went away" from him, he didn’t give Dumary Island and its inhabitants a rest ever since.

He needed to have her.

Hosanna was the first to wake up in the morning.

She was making us breakfast with smuggled goods I stole for us on the city’s central market.

We've camped on the mountainous part of this arid land, away from any prying eyes.

Today should mark the last day of Vittorio on the Human World.

He was expected somewhere else.

In Hell.

_The prophecy didn't complete itself, however, for I'm in the middle of my demotion._

Heaven knows I turned my back to it. Since I committed the sin of mating a human, I’ve been receiving non-stop messages and omens of our future.

In my dreams and when awaken, all I see is a calamity.

The whole universe's conspiring against me for my treason.

The skies have been gray since my fall from grace;

God’s tears are pouring incessantly around the globe;

The animals seem more agitated with fear of what will come next;

* * *

_**Hell is trembling with anticipation, for my degradation.**_

* * *

If my winged brothers despised me before, now I’m not an outcast anymore, I’m one of the family’s failures.

My ethereal feathers are losing strength, falling one by one.

I’m not worried for there are four thousand wings to lose yet.

However, the light that used to reside inside me, is losing its radiance, turning opaque.

The darkness is gaining momentum.

* * *

_**Should I feel bad for feeling good?** _

* * *

I’m not sorry Dad, for leaving home.

I need to spread my wings to wilder winds, stop hiding behind your “skirt”, agreed?

I’ve always been the wild one along with **Lucy**.

Even though I didn’t inherit the beauty and musical prowess he did, _~~*and god-complex*,~~_

We’re still very much rock stars inside, only I’m the one no one cares or remembers in the band.

I don’t judge them, I’m a loser, so why don’t _You_ go ahead and kill me?

* * *

**_But, somehow, He still mourns these ungrateful children of His._ **

* * *

Before waking to take my delicious breakfast prepared by Hosanna, I was paralyzed in our makeshift bed.

For a minute, the world stilled.

Familiar with these extravagant entrances, I waited.

With my eyes still closed from sleep, the culprit showed himself.

  * ~~~~“How are you brother? Taking your morning sun outside our heavenly jail? How are the others? Very well? _Good.”_ I say sarcastically. I like to make fun of my closest brother. **Michael** , intermediary and messenger of God. * _ ~~Part time warrior, but His personal assistant most of the time*.~~_
  * “ **Azrael** , you do know why I was sent here…”
  * “We can cut this conversation short then. I want to resume my morning alongside my wife.”
  * “Your wife?! This is blasphemy! You know Father will never allow this! Not only you-” I interrupt him before he starts to enlist my sins and past misfortunes.
  * “It’s not official yet, I didn’t propose to her… But I’m planning to! I love her and I’m set on staying beside her. Even if it cost me everything.”
  * “Azra… I can’t even fathom the consequences. Does she know about you? Who you truly are underneath this skin you don yourself of?
  * “Not yet… But I know she can love me, with wings or not, she’s the only one capable of loving me. And I’m not going to forfeit it, not even for 'home'”.
  * “Didn’t I reminded you enough? In all your past mischiefs? Because I foolishly thought your thick skull could process simple commandments from our Holy Father… Your role is to be the Angel of Death. You are the Guardian of Life. You record and erase the names of every being on Father's Book. God confided and created you for this sole mission! Not to mate with His daughters!"
  * “It should be my life-right to choose my own fate. At any cost, I'll self-sacrifice willingly if needed for my happiness.”
  * “Don’t make me recall your **_blasphemous conception_** , which God showed compassion enough to not expunge such unholy and forbidden consummation! Do not repeat the errors of your antecessors! I beg you!”
  * “There’s no need to bring those people in this civil conversation! I made my final decision. It is done. If you want to eat with us, I’ll gladly welcome you to our table, brother. Now if you excuse me…” I say as I exit the Dream World, interrupting my brother as of tradition.



I open my eyes. Exasperated from the "bad dream”.

Michael is an Archangel like myself. Or like I was...

I don’t know how much I enraged Dad, or how much damage I caused to our relationship.

Well, I’m still on one piece, so it can’t be that bad!?

Just, _maybe_ , they only removed my seat from God's abode.

I get off the sheets and go after Hosanna. My backbone. I need to kiss her, as much as I needed yesterday.

Nothing’s going to change that. **Nothing will tear us apart.**

  * “So this is today’s plan: eat breakfast, pack our things, steal a boat, and let the waters take us to somewhere far."
  * "I still want to take you to the moon, love. We won’t stop till we get there, It's a promise.” She looks at me lovingly, like she believes every word that leaves my mouth. I wanted to share her optimism, but I’m the lesser half of us two.



[ ](https://www.artcollectorz.com/artworks/artwork-detail?artwork_id=10271&edition_id=13054)

**_"Pink Sky" (2015) by Genieve Figgis._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.  
> "Like a beautiful Pink Rose,  
> She is in prime to bulldoze.  
> Where ever she goes  
> Is well taken by those-
> 
> Who know the grace and spirit,  
> Which is ready to establish writ,  
> By being always fit.
> 
> With full force she can hit.  
> Sublimity is her grace,  
> Which determines her race.  
> She has the graceful pace,  
> Innocence plays on her face.
> 
> I am victim just to see-  
> Only on love plea-  
> Where ever I happen to be,  
> I am lost she is she."
> 
> "Pink Rose" (2014)
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> 2.  
> "Your lips so Pink  
> just make me sink.  
> Your cheeks when blink-  
> Your eyes when wink-  
> Then I think to drink,  
> Love wine in a brink.
> 
> When your beauty invites,  
> Then heart starts and writes.  
> On all upcoming flights-  
> In all dark nights-  
> Beauty sprinkles its lights.  
> When fiery love bites,  
> We achieve heights."
> 
> "Pink Lips" (2015)
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> 3.  
> "My Pink Rose,  
> Dew drops touch face of petals to ameliorate.
> 
> Beauty enchants every watching soul to praise-  
> What a wonderful touch to make beauty great.
> 
> What a spirited scene is a result of sweet gaze,  
> What a spirited scene is a result of drizzling rain.
> 
> Makes me enthralled to remember wet pink lips,  
> I have to have a wonderful beauty and love chain-  
> Where love dictates all its wonderful clips and tips.
> 
> My pink rose I am in love, so please take me along.  
> Don't leave me in this cruel world at the mercy of rivals!
> 
> For your eyes sake I am ready to sing a love song,  
> To go through all trials for real wonderful survivals!"
> 
> "My Sweet Pink Rose" (2020)
> 
> Poems by Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan


	6. Aurora Serena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could have you in my arms; Carry you in my heart; Carve this love in my spirit and soul. Oh - If you could only stay like this, In this position we found ourselves in. Imagining you in my cling, forever, excites me, while you agonize in your everlasting horror, flesh of my flesh. Nevertheless, my entire existence owes you. Congratulates you for your rotten luck. Because of your impeccable timing, we crossed each other's path.  
> A thousand deep "thank-yous". For my purpose was to testify, your raw gorgeous self. In all your naked gory glory, you reveal your innermost to me, making myself redden. How beautiful it all came to be, don't you think? Your mere gaze losing sight; The touch of life escaping you; A fight between keeping consciousness, or surrendering to the abyss.  
> I take my sweet time savoring the contrast of Life and Death, in my lover's gall. Skin pressed against skin, I lay your final bed, whilst we enjoy our bodies grazing one another. Blood and bone in my mouth, as I masticate the intricate part of your sex. The pain will decrease my beloved, but not 'til I finish devouring you whole, exquisite feast. Going to sleep now? Have a sweet dream, my smooth-skinned companion. -Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The wounds on your hands never seem to heal.  
> I thought all I needed was to believe.
> 
> Here am I, a lifetime away from you,  
> The blood of Christ, or the beat of my heart.
> 
> My love wears forbidden colours,  
> My life believes.
> 
> Senseless years thunder by,  
> Millions are willing to give their lives for you,  
> Does nothing live on?
> 
> Learning to cope with feelings aroused in me,  
> My hands in the soil, buried inside myself.
> 
> My love wears forbidden colours,  
> My life believes in you once again.
> 
> I'll go walking in circles,  
> While doubting the very ground beneath me.  
> Trying to show unquestioning faith in everything.
> 
> Here am I, a lifetime away from you,  
> The blood of Christ, or a change of heart."
> 
> "Forbidden Colours" by David Sylvian

* * *

**PERSEPHONE'S FUCKING BILE**

~~_*Death's Elegia pt. 3*_ ~~

* * *

I want to make something clear. I _did not_ let her hand go a minute on that tragic day…

Even when we were to depart from that damned land, and were ambushed by Vittorio's henchmen, I refused to let go of her hand.

They’d have to cut both of my arms.

**And so they slashed.**

We were kidnapped.

Brought to the most ancient cathedral on the Island.

_Am I in Hell?_

I blacked out for the most part of that sinful ceremony.

I didn’t care for the pain and torture that sadistic malevolent beings put me through. I had only eyes for her. For her welfare.

I did try to save her multiple times. Lost all the members of my body trying to. And I would lose my whole entire being if it meant to save her.

However, I’d only be egotistical to put her in more trauma than she already has suffered.

For every limb they ripped off of me, they threatened to rip out a member from her if I didn’t submit.

_An eye for an eye._

So right then and there I did it.

* * *

_**I prayed to God to save her.** _

* * *

To my surprise, Hosanna’s guardian angel descended from Paradise.

She closed her eyes and embraced her. Protecting her unpriced treasure, her soul.

Shielding the most important person in my whole world, she entered a deep-sleep state,

Leaving all the pain behind her.

Now she could rest.

I’d make sure she could.

_If only good things happened to people like me and you…_

The assault on her body didn’t stop. Furious I demanded answers.

  * “WHY!? WHY HER!? TAKE ME INSTEAD!” I poisonously averted my eyes from her to Vittorio.
  * “It’s nothing personal, dollface. Even less personal to _sluts_ like you two…"
  * "I needed a sacrifice for my lord, Argosax, the one, and only. To pledge fealty."
  * "What better gift, than Azrael The Angel of Death, betrothed? I hope you don’t hold a grudge, It’s only business, after all, I know you lot can _understand_."



The blood clouded my vision. Not the one oozing off my open head.

But the scalding wrath I was summoning inside my spirit.

I didn’t go berserk mode in a long time. Especially since my birth…

“My” voice was already failing me. My Face contorting.

I knew I couldn’t hold my façade much longer. Not that I wanted to.

After days on my honeymoon, I was **THIRSTY.**

  * **"VITTORIO!** " I let loose a guttural sound, which shakes the church’s foundation. Resonating through everyone’s core.
  * **“This is your last chance, _my_ **_**friend,**_ **If you let us be, I’ll concede you and your satanic minions your death-wish to go straight to HELL.”** I say through falling teeth, and shedding skin. Voice calculated, low, and menacing. It’s a promise.
  * “You’re not getting the whole picture here, Azrael…"
  * "Lord Argosax will give me immortality in exchange for his love-interest suffering. This is bigger than a whore’s soul! It’s all about you!"
  * "This arranged blood-sacrifice, Hosanna’s impending death, is all on you!” I give him credit when is due, he must be a real MAN to face me without staining his trousers. Sackless demon.
  * “So this is all Argosax doing… **AM I NOT DELIGHTED?! That devil has the nerve to grab my attention by trying to kill my loved one!”** I say mustering a wicked laugh. I’m shedding this prostitute’s skin I currently wear, along with the remnants of my angelic heritage. If I’m going to fall from grace, I’m going to go all the way.



Like a snake, I shed the remaining human skin, slithering through this body’s skeleton, revealing my real identity.

The hooded cultic members cease their prayers, fearing me, as they certainly should.

Only worse than a devil is a Fallen Angel.

With nothing to lose, our mind's long gone corrupted and blinded by rage.

We could be beautiful.

But we weren't built like that.

Spreading the splendor of four thousand bat-like wings, fitting the landscape ahead with my soulless blackened eyes, I rise up to a height of 70,000 feet, breaking the cathedral’s glassed ceiling.

With a monstrous distorted face and an endless tongue, I capture the remaining religious survivors, the ones who weren’t smashed by the concrete.

From a hundred people around the pagan pentagram made of innocent’s blood, only me, Hosanna, and Vittorio remain.

I stare into his soul for a minute while I finish chewing the body of the ceremony's priest.

Vittorio's in the middle of a bloodbath, surrounded by the organs of children and women they killed for this demonic ritual.

I can only see a beast in front of me, takes one to know one, I admit.

  * **"SPEAK COWARD!"** I howl in the darkest hour of the night, causing the land to quake and mountains slide. The local natives near this apocalyptic site, that didn’t run from the destruction I caused before in the massive church, won’t live to tell the story.



My next roar is purposefully enough to burst Vittorio's eardrum into pieces. Anything living in the vicinity, however, is obliterated.

Craters are formed in the soil below us.

I couldn’t rebuild this neighborhood even if I wanted.

  * **“I won’t give you the right to die, scum! Starting from this present-day forward, you are damned to walk this Earth till the End of Times!** **You’ll want to die but won’t find rest!**
  * **"If you seek me I’ll reject you! You’ll get your wished immortality, at the expense of your soul!"**



I make a dreadful pause to "bathe" myself Vittorio's cries. 

  * **"OUT OF MY SIGHT!”** I just created the worst enemy humanity could possibly have. Do I care? No. I flick Vittorio away like the insect that he is.



* * *

_**My mistress, does she knows what it means to love her?** _

* * *

Alas, I can only have attentive eyes for Hosanna in her dreamy instance.

She looks especially stunning in this littered world.

I revert to an eight-foot stature to approach her.

I did promise to take her to my cherished sanctuary.

The moon.

As I go in her direction to nestle her in my arms, her guardian angel stops me, pointing their sword in my direction.

  * "Take no further stride, Fallen Creature! She doesn’t belong to you! The light has rebutted you!” They say something I didn’t listen to, for it fell on deaf ears. Ignoring the white noise, I proceed to encounter Hosanna.
  * **"STOP!"** Before they could prevent me from reaching her, I quickly summoned my scythe and reaped the guardian angel’s soul, absorbing their energy into my weapon. For now, we won’t be interrupted, my love.



Blissful silence.

I get to Hosanna’s bloodied body from her previous assaults. She’s more perfect than the wildest dream.

  * “Do you know all the lengths I’ll go for you? To find you?” I say adoring her decaying fragile body. She’s losing the colors on her cheek. I can buy her all the rouge she wants later. Now I just want to fly her to the furthest star in this galaxy.



As I caress her hair, I go for her legs, to take her bridal style. We’re leaving now dear.

Is only then I notice, I don’t feel her legs.

_Can’t I touch her legs?_

For part of her abdomen is separated from her body.

Lifting the long florid dress, I can see her gut hanging outside the body.

* * *

**_Am I in Hell?_ **

* * *

Can't even voice this unbearable pain that's blooming on my core,

Caused by the overwhelmed state I’m in.

Granted, I only inspect her, listening to her failing heart, beating so weakly, as she moves her frail eyes to look at me.

  * “Are you Satan?” She asks with aversion. Is it my appearance?



I only give a slight grin in response, lifting carefully her chin with my clawed fingers to kiss her.

She turns away, dodging me with the little strength she has.

I respect her repulsion for my true identity. _It’s expected._

  * **"I was Death,** my dear Hosanna. But since I met you, I renounced everything that I am. I answered my true calling in life. Of being entirely devoted to you. I’m yours. Unconditionally.” I declare my feelings, hoping they’re reciprocated.
  * **“But- I want Life! I wish to live!”** Is this a sick game from the universe?
  * “You reject me Hosanna?”I don’t know when this numbing sensation invaded me.



But I don't feel anything. 

Not even my heartbreak.

  * **“Stay away!"** Scared, she hustles away off my cling, falling from the devil's embrace.
  * "Mother!” She says sobbing on her last breath. Is she even seeing me anymore? At all?



As she calls for mercy, her protector angel tries to reemerge from my weapon, which I come to realize is her late adoptive mother.

With a hundred angels descending the sky, Hosanna’s guardian angel manages to break free from my scythe.

They came to deliver this soul to God I dare to say.

* * *

_**Is this a rapture?** _

* * *

**Deranged by the prospect of losing her, I do the unthinkable,**

**I devour Hosanna’s body before solitude ravages me once more.**

I fight all the while the angels going for Hosanna’s body and soul.

Gripping her so tightly I’m afraid she will tear apart.

Desperate to not lose her, I channel prohibited blood magic;

As I begin consuming her body and blood, her vital life, I take the demoniacal communion, intending to chain her beside me in a potent soul contract.

Her entireness will belong to me as much as I belong to her.

We can now be, at last, bound.

* * *

_**There's no end to the lengths I'll go to love you.** _

* * *

By violating the damned wedding's final consummation, the angels yank her soul from my claws.

Interrupting its completion.

Only leaving a lifeless body in its wake, without a soul.

**I can’t feel anything,**

**For I must be in Hell.**

Anesthetized, I strip her skin from her flesh, sewing the ripped parts together with my talons, fangs, and fallen feathers.

Using her luscious hair as a sewing thread, I lastly cover the mending with my spit to glue it all together.

Taking my sweet time, pretending I was sewing my beloved's gown.

As I finish stitching the skin, I try out this handmade vessel, as one would vest a garment.

 _Hosanna’s leather_.

**Dressed in her skinned carcass,**

**While looking at the sky who took her from me.**

With my head lying on the remaining of her raw carnal chest one last time,

I marvel at the faraway, whimsical stars above us. 

A spectacular show of colors in front of me, I grimly remark;

It’s going to be dawn soon, my wife.

Being allowed by the heavens' generosity to enjoy the beauty of what's supposed to be my last sunrise,

The pits of my heart begin its yearning for you.

Finally closing my tired eyes, and accepting the consequences of my choices, I hear God’s thunderstorm readily approaching.

A powerful bolt of lightning comes in my direction to strike me.

Like this unspeakable day, It all happened too fast.

Before my tear gets to fall on the concrete floor, all I can think is…

* * *

**_I feel no more._**

* * *

[ ](https://eclecticlight.co/2020/01/05/paintings-for-our-time-death-and-the-maiden/)

**_**"Death and the Maiden" (1510-20), Hans Baldung.** _ **

**_"The Maiden:_ ** **_  
Pass me by! Oh, pass me by!  
Go, fierce man of bones!  
I am still young! Go, dear,  
And do not touch me.  
And do not touch me.  
  
Death:  
Give me your hand, you beautiful and tender form!  
I am a friend and come not to punish.  
Be of good cheer! I am not fierce,  
Softly shall you sleep in my arms!"_ **

**_"Death and the Maiden" (1817) by Franz Schubert_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # 'Aurora Serena' (Portuguese), translates as "Serene Dawn" in English.
> 
> # Persephone;
> 
> "In Greek mythology, Persephone (/pərˈsɛfəniː/ pər-SEF-ə-nee; Greek: Περσεφόνη, romanized: Persephónē), also called Kore or Kora (/ˈkɔːriː/ KOR-ee; Greek: Κόρη, romanized: Kórē, lit. 'the maiden'), is the daughter of Zeus and Demeter."
> 
> "She became the queen of the underworld through her abduction by Hades, the god of the underworld, with the approval of her father, Zeus. The myth of her abduction represents her function as the personification of vegetation, which shoots forth in spring and withdraws into the earth after harvest; hence, she is also associated with spring as well as the fertility of vegetation. Similar myths appear in the cults of male gods like Attis, Adonis, and Osiris, and in Minoan Crete."
> 
> "Persephone was commonly worshipped along with Demeter and with the same mysteries. To her alone were dedicated the mysteries celebrated at Athens in the month of Anthesterion. In Classical Greek art, Persephone is invariably portrayed robed, often carrying a sheaf of grain. She may appear as a mystical divinity with a sceptre and a little box, but she was mostly represented in the process of being carried off by Hades."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> The Northern Lights Mythology
> 
> # 'Aurora Borealis'; "The Latin name 'Aurora Borealis' means Northern dawn and the name began to be used during the 1600s.  
> In many cultures the aurora was linked with the dead and among other things people thought that it was the resident for the dead. Therefore, it has always come naturally to people to be reverent and to show respect for this northerly light phenomenon."
> 
> "In Sámi the Aurora is called Guovssahas.  
> According to the Sámi mythology you should never whistle to the northern lights as it can lead to misfortune. The Inuit in Greenland and the Indians of North America had similar beliefs as the Sámi people. There are many stories from North America and Scandinavia how dangerous it can be to not show respect for the northern lights."
> 
> "The northern lights is also mentioned in the Bible, in the book of Ezekiel in the Old Testament. In the 2,600 years old description it says:” I looked, and I saw a windstorm coming out of the north–an immense cloud with flashing lightning and surrounded by brilliant light.”  
> But the oldest images of the aurora borealis is a couple of cave paintings in Rouffinac in France. The paintings consist of lines and arcs drawn with the fingers of stone-age hunters who lived about 10,000 years ago."
> 
> "One can assume that the aurora had the same meaning for them as it had later on for the Sámi people, the Inuit’s and the Indians all the way until the 1900s."
> 
> Source: jokkmokkguiderna.com


	7. Prodigal Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case someone is confused by my badly done spoken journaling, as well as my public role in this existence, I'm the Grim Reaper. Nice-meeting-you-all again, and welcome back to my "podcast".  
> I've been in charge of guiding every single soul ever created by Dad, to its designated dimension, and keeping everyone's tail between their legs. But since this more or less obedient child of His Excellent Majesty, fell on temptation by eating up his daughter, both literally and figuratively; went rogue on all of their assignments, Vittorio, the immortal murderer I set free being one of them;  
> My divine family decided they had enough of my shenanigans for now, whipping me to Hell, to spend some time with the other rebellious children (you can say I was not well-received there either and it would be an understatement, they're not well-known for their hospitality, as a rule). Aside from being, indefinitely, expelled from Father's household, to live in the stales parts of the Underworld, losing my feathers and celestial precedence, for the time being - again, wishful thinking - I can say I'm not so screwed as I thought I would be, after all, I did what I did.  
> But, I'm still here, right!? It must count for something. -Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> The Parable of the Lost Son
> 
> 11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
> 
> 13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
> 
> 17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.
> 
> “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
> 
> 21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
> 
> 22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
> 
> 25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
> 
> 28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat, so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
> 
> 31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”
> 
> -Luke 15;11-32.
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Original Characters 
> 
> # Angelica; "Comes from the Latin angelicus ('angelic'), which in turn is descended from the Greek άγγελος (ángelos) meaning 'messenger of God' or 'angel'."
> 
> # Daemon; "Is the Latin word for the Ancient Greek daimon (δαίμων: 'god', 'godlike', 'power', 'fate'), which originally referred to a lesser deity or guiding spirit such as the daemons of ancient Greek religion and mythology and of later Hellenistic religion and philosophy."
> 
> -Wikipedia

* * *

**SIX-FEET-UNDER**

~~_*The Raven Takes Flight*_ ~~

* * *

I awake from my dreams. Or was it past recollections?

 _A Past life?_ _Perhaps a parallel reality?_

Trying my hardest to make sense of my surroundings.

_Where am I? What era am I? Am I truly here?_

Every time is worse than the other.

As much as I love sleeping, I dread the awakening part. I never know how deep I got into something, till I’m wide awake.

Usually, I do prefer the Dream World, even If it takes me to my most beautiful nightmare.

Reality is not for creatures like me. We prefer the fantastic world of inconsequences.

And I loathe reality just as much as being sober.

The post realization of a high - the depression and depreciation that ensues right after-

When you’re on cloud nine, only to be yanked off from your magic _rose-colored_ sky…

* * *

_**Falling only ensures my bitterness,** _

_**Unsweetened bit by bit I become.** _

* * *

With my eyes adjusting to the lights coming from the window’s moving car, on the backside, I turn to the driver to start my interrogations.

It’s always the same. Every single time I go berserk, my memory deteriorates a little for some reason.

One of the motives I don’t overuse this power is, I’m afraid to sink deep enough to lose myself in the middle of it.

Becoming an empty shell of what I once was.

Memories…

What are we, without them?

What a disaster. A fallen with recurring amnesia.

  * “Who are you?” I begin my set of questions to the driver, with a mind still fuzzy from the previous dream I had. _Hosanna_.
  * “ **Angelica** , master.” She answers straightaway. Something tells me she has answered this question more times than we both would like to admit, even though she seems unfazed by it.



I scratch my mind raw in an attempt to remember her, who sounds so familiar to me.

  * “Lica?” I say, trying the first word that rushed to my mind. A nickname I must have given her, as random flashes and lapses of memory from the past years bombard me, leaving me unnerved.
  * “Yes, master.” She says somewhat relieved, happy, I can sense. Am I this senile? I’m feeling like a kid winning their first spelling bee. Only I’m not a kid.
  * “Don’t worry master, _we_ were informed that this pattern of behavior can be treated. I presume part of your memory will return in a few hours. If not, some kind of triggering is advised to ease the symptoms of transient amnesia.” She says so elegantly, somehow I’m feeling proud of this kind “stranger”.
  * “Thank you, Lica.” I have so many questions I think to myself…
  * “Ask me anything your curious mind desire, master, and I’ll try my best to answer them accordingly...” Angelica says reading my poker face, through the rearview mirror. Yes, she must know me quite well. I smile at this.



As I search for a question I deem as imperative at the moment, I take note of her appearance, engraving her in my "skull".

Angelica is a handsome dark-skinned human female. She sports a gorgon-like tattoo on her head, [Medusa,](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorgon) I think, along with a light-pink buzzed haircut. 

She's one of the kind who adds meaning behind her body's modifications, so the permanent ink on her skin must be a symbol of great value. 

She’s dressing a butler’s formal attire over a hoodie, with a pair of expensive sunglasses, Chanel's, to protect her orbs from sunrays, for the finishing touch.

I promptly note that the dye of her hair is my favorite color…

I don’t think she wears her minimal hair in **pink** because she fancies the color better.

Her entire pattern screams solid black.

She’s the street-smart kind-of-girl. Casual, comfortable, athletic, as her physical corroborates me.

She blends and works better in the shadows.

So why the color pink?

My bet is because it’s _my_ favorite color.

The formal attire must be my touch then. As you can see, appearances matter to me.

Terminating my purposefully not-subtle examination of her, I avert my eyes to the black tinted windows of the car.

Absorbing the feel of the leathery cushion smoothness of this car’s seat, along with the scenery outside this luxury car. _Audi R8_. If my memory doesn’t fail me. Good taste, Angelica.

Finding no relevant question at the moment. I let her guide me.

  * “Where are we going?” As I look at the greenery landscape beyond the dirt road. I can envision myself getting lost amidst the tall trees and lush bushes. A wave of calmness washes over me at this prospect.
  * “We’re currently in **Mallet Island** , master. I picked you up among the ancient wreckage of this island’s castle. The remains of it at least, after your _thunderous_ arrival..."
  * "We’re going to travel back to **Red Grave City** , the town I chose previously to establish your firm. ' **Lucy’s Garage'.** ” I have so many questions, it’s giving me pain…
  * “Why this Red Grave City, and when did I ask you to create a business in the first place?” I’m getting frustrated with my obvious unawareness. Could I start to remember my own past decisions? As in now!?
  * “After meeting you on that unforgettable day, ten years ago, in the slums of the city of **Fortuna** , you offered me the chance to start my life over, by your side.” She says biting her grin, trying to suppress her emotions, I presume.
  * “So basically I adopted you?” This comes as a surprise to me. _What was I thinking at that time?_ Well just go along with it for now.
  * “Yes. You could say so, master.” She genuinely beams at my choice of phrasing.
  * “We made a blood pact. Since then I’m obliged to serve you with gratitude and unquestionable, unconditional loyalty, in exchange for your tutelage, providence, and protection.” She finishes. Yes, this does sound like something I would bargain with. Unconditional trust…
  * “I see. Your soul is mine then. Yours and your lineage I assume. A generational contract of servitude… It’s starting to ring some bells…” I say laughing at my predictability.
  * “In total, you asked me to create the company, 'Lucy’s Garage', as a front business."
  * "Outsiders and frequenters, both, see it as a renowned nightclub known for the accessible extravagant vibe it gives. I made sure this is the overall opinion of the general population."
  * "About the nightclub’s staff, as your request, I contracted previous _prostitutes_ to work in the establishment."
  * "If you allow me to say, in my humble opinion, master, I was touched by this appeal. The people at the club can’t wait to meet you in person to express their gratitude for giving them a sustainable and legal job.”



I hear Lica’s briefing of what probably happened these recent years. Quietly processing the information, I try to understand my reasons behind this chain of actions.

  * “'Lucy’s Garage’…" I can imagine why I named it after my brother’s once celestial name. Although crazy, his madness inspires many to this day.
  * "So this business is a front for…?” She chuckles at my comment regarding the name of the company. She gets my sense of humor. Good.



My brother Lulu can be as an angel as he can be a demon. The perfect allegory for a nightclub.

Where the fluorescent lights illuminate partially the sinful activities that occur in the middle of the night, in his said "garage".

  * “Your real clientele, are the ones who made pacts with Death, or new patrons who wish to ask a favor or two from the infamous **Angel of Death**. We’re essentially _mercenaries_ behind the kitchen’s doors.” She says grinning at me. Satisfied with her storytelling delivery.
  * “Bull's-eye!” I say after hearing the word mercenary, who triggers one of my most important memories.



Finally! After coming across many dead-end streets on my mind, I can now begin to understand and recollect a few of my recent affairs in the Human World.

My reasoning is becoming less foggy. As well as this island’s view, which seems to be forever engulfed in a soft mist…

_Temen-ni-gru_ , the devils from the Underworld, which I just came from, boasted frequently about this portal bridging the opposite worlds…

They claimed many other unfortunate tales too. If it weren’t for my amnesia impending my memory to access them, it would probably be my disinterest and aloofness concerning demon’s matters.

Aside from my old formidable acquaintances, Sparda being one of them, I have zero knowledge about demon history, even though I passed good millennia being their sackpunch.

This brings me to…

  * “I think your parents sent their regards to you from Hell. 'We miss you' they said.” With my eyes planted on the hypnotic green of the passing foliage, I looked peripherally to see Angelica’s reaction.
  * “Good riddance! They deserve to be where they are right now. They’re nothing short of a devil.” She says trying to repress her childhood traumas, and the emotions it invokes in her. She succeeds, quickly changing subjects. Ha! This child is an interesting one…
  * “Little Daemon is currently at her girlfriend’s house. She begged me to let her sleepover there before you came to the city. She misses you very much! You won’t believe how much she’s grown. The letters we’ve exchanged with you in these past years, don’t do justice to the pleasure of having you personally here with us.” I share the same feeling. I trust nobody. With a few exceptions… Angelica and her daughter being one of them.
  * “My grandaughter perhaps is enamored? Already!? Shouldn’t we be jealous?!” Should I kill this said young girl if she were ever to break this little queen’s heart? Maybe I’m being a tad theatrical. What can I do? Ever since Hosanna, I can only know to be possessive of my esteemed ones. My new-found adopted family isn’t exempt.
  * “She tells me off every single time I enter her 'private matters'. Can you believe it? She’s half of our heights! This kid…” I can only laugh at this, Daemon is certainly a special child If I well remember. Precocious kiddo. My general distaste for children hasn’t rubbed on her apparently.
  * “On another note, I do miss not being _present_ in your lives this past few years. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner…” I begin, only to stop in my tracks for remembering why I wasn’t on Earth in the first place…



_Hosanna. My fall from grace. God’s judgment. Punishment and penalties suffered in the Dark World…_

I figured out a way to meddle with humans from there. Raising somehow the then younger **Angelica** and her newborn baby **Daemon** from another dimension.

I should be rewarded for that feat.

  * “You have nothing to apologize to us, master. We owe you what we’re today. I owe you my daughter’s life. I’ll tell you this time and time again if needed.” She says looking briefly at me, to make her point across, through the rearview mirror.



She’s truthful, with no ulterior motives in her speech, or inside her. A quality I truly admire. But not enough to cultivate in me.

More importantly, something I’m certainly grateful this mother and daughter possess is that they both respect and accept me for what I’m truly am.

Death incarnate or what-not.

Strange humans these two are…

"Love" is a mysterious thing, isn’t it?

  * “My arrival to this realm… Was it a bit too much?” I ask changing topics. When it comes to feelings, _love_ most of the time, it’s a territory foreign for people like us two. A ferocious ocean of sentiments unexplored, we dread to traverse sometimes. She acknowledges the change, understanding the meaning behind it.
  * “Wouldn’t expect less from the Angel of Death, master” She says proudly. I wouldn’t tolerate anyone referring to me in my late honorifics. As you see, she's a different story.



In other words, I’m no Angel. Not anymore.

**So, don't call me an angel.**

  * “You made quite the earthquake. Nothing too aggressive, but enough for people to take notice of this quarter of the hemisphere."
  * "You 'coincided' with the passage of an unforeseen meteorite. So most humans still tried to continue oblivious from the supernatural nature of the universe.
  * “They’ll never learn this bunch, will they…?” I sigh. It’s truly a pity. They’re losing all the fun being inside their dome. Well, suit yourselves…
  * “Unfortunately for them, no.” She gives a crooked smile.
  * "How was the treasure hunt?" I begin to imagine her uneasiness to find the said "meteorite" landing site.
  * "I had a hard time trying to find you." She recollects her past week.
  * "In short, a few days ago, after deducting the coordinates and local of your landing, I came as soon as I could to meet you. Had to search you everywhere on the map of this forsaken region."
  * "Found you on the weekend as I followed the trail of the shooting star. Scavenging the castle's ruins took some significant time too. You were heavily buried underneath leftover debris.” Angelica tells her past mishap rather triumphantly.
  * “We’re getting to the island’s port, master. From there, we’ll embark on the Watership that’s going to take us to Red Grave City."
  * “Did you brought the skin I asked you to retain?”
  * “Yes, master. Hosanna’s leather has been in a strongbox since discovered by **Vie de Marli** inhabitants. I acquired from them not long ago, as you ordered so.”
  * “Thank you again, lollipop!” I probably wouldn’t be much if it wasn’t for her work diligence. I’m very pleased.
  * “I hope the ship has an arranged minibar with my ‘red fruits’ beverages.” I wink at her, smiling at my expectancy of quenching my thirst. I like the carnal nature humans have. The touch, the taste, all of it. It's my personal drug since tasting It for the first time.
  * “I selected and pre-ordered types of blood of the highest quality for you, master. Expect them to be well-refrigerated along with your Bordeaux.” She says as we approach the canal.
  * _"_ Well done _.”_ Before I can enter the vault on my side, brought for my secrecy and privacy during this trip, she finishes telling me the notorious "Qliphoth" incident I missed. Still, in my spectral, ghost-like appearance and without a human vessel as of yet, I listen intently to the latest gossip.



Why the trafficking of human blood you ask?

We don’t want people to associate me with vampires, ~~* _If they even exist in the first place, didn't bump on one yet*_~~ , so to avoid a possible human hunt-down, on my occasional thirst rampages by accident, I buy from blood banks around the world, my needed sustenance, necessary to keep my human vessel functioning, as a “normal” human being would.

I want to prevent any possible inconvenience in advance, 'cause since coming to terms with my more _devilish_ side, I acquired their taste buds too.

If you know what I mean. 

And where does it come from all of my resources, my coin, in this terrain land, you ask as well?

Well, Death, has many enemies, indeed.

Perchance, an enemy from my enemy could be an ally, some might inquire...

I’m not your average enemy, that’s for sure.

I can kick your bucket too if I must.

In short, I have some plausible theories about my new stay and living on Earth, just deduced, may I add, in the apex of my floating memory.

A many-step plan I must've been scheming with Angelica for quite some time, for me to blend in society, darlings. 

Why bother?

Maybe I just want to be part, of the many, unholy beings that permeate this so-called Red Grave City.

My sweet escape from Hell.

I swear that's all!

* * *

_**Father, "knock-knock", I’m back.** _

* * *

[ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Raven)

**_An Illustration by Gustave Doré from "[The Raven".](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48860/the-raven)_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> “So, for the eleventh time, how Dante managed to save both of your asses again?” Said Trish, the only one feigning interest, and entertaining Dante’s epic, self-appraising story. A broken record he was pushing onto them again, about his reoccurring escapades from Hell, for the dismay of the present listeners' ears, the gathered Devil May Cry crew, and amusement of her.
> 
> Vergil wasn't impressed by none of it, at all.
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> "I've got you under my skin.  
> I've got you deep in the heart of me,  
> So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me.  
> I've got you under my skin.
> 
> I tried so not to give in.  
> Said to myself this affair will never go so well,  
> But why should I try to resist, when, baby, I know so well,  
> I've got you under my skin.
> 
> I'd sacrifice anything, come what might,  
> For the sake of having you near.  
> In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night,  
> And repeats, repeats in my ear,
> 
> Don't you know little fool, you never can win.  
> Use your mentality, wake up to reality.  
> But each time that I do, just the thought of you,  
> Makes me stop before I begin,  
> 'Cause I've got you under my skin."
> 
> "I've got you under my skin" -Frank Sinatra


	8. Firestarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm the trouble starter, punkin' instigator  
> I'm the fear addicted, a danger illustrated
> 
> I'm the bitch you hated, filth infatuated  
> I'm the pain you tasted, fell intoxicated
> 
> I'm the self-inflicted, mind detonator  
> I'm the one infected, twisted animator
> 
> I'm a firestarter, twisted firestarter  
> You're the firestarter, twisted firestarter
> 
> I'm a firestarter, twisted firestarter starter"
> 
> -Prodigy, "Firestarter"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # Firestarter; 
> 
> "(Noun) That one friend or family member who thrives on creating chaos, so they pour gasoline on any conflict, no matter how small, to inflame the situation. Synonyms: asshole, instigator, pot-stirrer, jerk."
> 
> "My sister is such a firestarter, she can't stand it when our whole family is at peace."
> 
> -Urban Dictionary
> 
> "A small block of material that burns very easily and is used for helping to start wood or coal fires (a tool used to start fires);  
> A person who intentionally and illegally sets fire to something such as a building (one who starts fires)."
> 
> -Cambridge Dicitionary
> 
> # Black Magic; 
> 
> "Black magic has traditionally referred to the use of supernatural powers or magic for evil and selfish purposes. With respect to the left-hand path and right-hand path dichotomy, black magic is the malicious, left-hand counterpart of the benevolent white magic. In modern times, some find that the definition of black magic has been convoluted by people who define magic or ritualistic practices that they disapprove of as black magic."
> 
> "Like its counterpart white magic, the origins of black magic can be traced to the primitive, ritualistic worship of spirits as outlined in Robert M. Place's 2009 book, Magic and Alchemy. Unlike white magic, in which Place sees parallels with primitive shamanistic efforts to achieve closeness with spiritual beings, the rituals that developed into modern black magic were designed to invoke those same spirits to produce beneficial outcomes for the practitioner."
> 
> "Place also provides a broad modern definition of both black and white magic, preferring instead to refer to them as 'high magic' (white) and 'low magic' (black) based primarily on the intentions of the practitioner employing them. He acknowledges, though, that this broader definition (of 'high' and 'low') suffers from prejudices because good-intentioned folk magic may be considered 'low' while ceremonial magic involving expensive or exclusive components may be considered by some as 'high magic', regardless of intent."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # Reincarnation; "Reincarnation, also known as rebirth or transmigration, is the philosophical or religious belief that the non-physical essence of a living being begins a new life in a different physical form or body after biological death. Resurrection is a similar process hypothesized by some religions, that involves coming back to life in the same body."
> 
> "(...) The word reincarnation derives from a Latin term that literally means 'entering the flesh again'. Reincarnation refers to the belief that an aspect of every human being (or all living beings in some cultures) continues to exist after death, this aspect may be the soul or mind or consciousness or something transcendent which is reborn in an interconnected cycle of existence;"
> 
> "The transmigration belief varies by culture, and is envisioned to be in the form of a newly born human being, or animal, or plant, or spirit, or as a being in some other non-human realm of existence. An alternative term is transmigration, implying migration from one life (body) to another. The term has been used by modern philosophers such as Kurt Gödel and has entered the English language."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # The Magician (Tarot); 
> 
> "(Symbolism) In the Magician's right hand is a scroll raised toward heaven, the sky or the element æther, while his left hand is pointing to the earth. This iconographic gesture has multiple meanings, but is endemic to the Mysteries and symbolizes divine immanence, the ability of the magician to bridge the gap between heaven and earth. On the table in front of the Magician the symbols of the four Tarot suits signify the Classical elements of earth, air, fire and water. Beneath are roses and lilies, the flos campi and lilium convallium, [a] changed into garden flowers, to show the culture of aspiration."
> 
> "The Magician is associated with the planet Mercury, and hence the signs of Gemini and/or Virgo in astrology."
> 
> "(Divination) According to Lionnet, when the Magician appears in a spread, it points to the talents, capabilities and resources at the querent's disposal. Depending on the card's placement in relation to other cards, the message is to tap into one's full potential rather than holding back, especially when there is a need to transform something. There are choices and directions to take. Guidance can arrive through one's own intuition or in the form of someone who brings about change or transformation."
> 
> "According to A. E. Waite's Pictorial Key To The Tarot, the Magician card is associated with: Skill, diplomacy, address, subtlety, pain, loss, disaster, snares of enemies; self-confidence, will; [it signifies] the Querent, if male. Reversed: Physician, mental disease, disgrace, disquiet. Waite also writes that this card signifies the divine motive in man."
> 
> -Wikipedia

[ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skull_of_a_Skeleton_with_Burning_Cigarette)

**_"Head of a skeleton with a burning cigarette" (1885-86), Vincent van Gogh._**

* * *

**"TROUBLE STARTER"**

~~_"Punkin' Instigator"_ ~~

* * *

**(God's point-of-view narrative)**

  * “So, for the _eleventh_ time, how did Dante manage to save both of your asses again?” Said **Trish** , the only one feigning interest, and entertaining Dante’s epic, self-appraising story.



A broken record he was pushing onto them, again, about his reoccurring escapes from Hell, for the dismay of the present listeners' ears, the gathered **Devil May Cry** crew, and for her amusement.

Vergil wasn't impressed by any of it, at all.

  * “As I was saying, before being interrupted by you Trish, which is not cool by the way…” Dante commenced again his never-ending story. His most recent adventure in the Netherlands, describing in detail the where’s and how’s, used to get him and Vergil back to the Human World.
  * “You’ll get the gist of it! Just hang on for a sec, I’m gettin' there...” Dante was too much excited, self-absorbed in the storytelling, to notice that he was talking to the walls alone for the past hour. Vergil was withdrawing to his quarters to take some deserved rest before he decided to poke his brother one last time.
  * “We had to search for Sacrileges, after fighting Abysses on our way, for only then, have a gradual transition between the two dimensions. _The end_.” Vergil said as he got up from the love-seat he was sitting on, after innumerous attempts to concentrate on his reading, with his brother’s voice as background music. William Blake, his favorite author, would have to wait.



He didn’t fail to note that Dante’s and Nero’s colleagues, mouthed thank-yous to him, for cutting the story short, which was on repeat mode.

  * “NO! I didn’t even get to the most fun part! After defeating the remain-” He wasn’t about to give up his good spirit just yet.
  * “Dante, we got it. Seriously. We’re Devil Hunters too! Although we weren’t in the actual Hell, we all just came from a tiresome gig on the way here…” Said **Lady** , finishing her beer can. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about demons this Friday night.
  * “We just came to welcome you guys back, never thought I’d miss your annoying asses!” Said **Nero** , half-asleep on the couch, lying on his girlfriend's lap. **Kyrie** was smiling at the altercation as she patted his back and drawn hearts on it. Her simple touch eased the tension accumulated just hours ago, from a job in the vicinity he and **Nico** accepted. It was messy, taking them both by surprise.
  * “As much as I love to torture, I prefer to inflict it on others. So, sorry Dante, in a little while we’ll have other business to attend to. Maybe later you can talk us to death.” Trish said while grabbing the last piece of pizza that Dante was about to grab.



His welcoming reception wasn’t going according to his plans. He wanted to interact with any soul, other than his awkward twin. Preferably, anyone who wasn’t a demon too.

  * “I- Nico?!” Dante was starting to protest, he was going to appeal to Nico’s defense, his _only_ adoring fan, on the Devil May Cry shop.
  * “Sorry pumpkin, my hands are kinda busy right now. I’m creating my next masterpiece as we’re talking!” She was tinkering with the Devil Arms the Sparda duo brought from their previous venture. As much as she’s star-struck by The Legendary Dark Knight, her truest passion is being an inventor. When in a creative streak, her craft is the priority. She bid her farewell to her friends, to go smoke and work privately on her van.
  * “Y'all going to leave me hanging on Sunday?! The treason! I can’t even-” Dante was about to start his emotional blackmail, till his phone started to ring. Hoping for a last-minute task from **Morrison** , he promptly picked up the phone. He’d do anything to pass his time on this long dull day. The Dark World was certainly more agitated…
  * “Morrison, my man-” Dante was already grinning at the prospect of not spending the rest of the night in solitude.
  * “Dante. It’s **Patty**! Are you avoiding me!?” That brat’s voice just killed his mood entirely, for he knew where this conversation was leading to. He just sighed at this.
  * “Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out-” He left her talking by herself on the line, while he went to turn off the electrical power of the house. By now, since she turned eighteen, he thought the continuous refusals to her advancements, were enough for her to get his message across. It doesn’t appear so.



He expects to tire her eventually before he decides to seek “quietude” In Hell.

As he came back to his office entry, he saw everyone leaving. He was about to convince them otherwise. For some reason, he didn’t want to spend this particular day alone.

  * “Night Dante. Trish and I are heading to some bar downtown. We’re celebrating girl’s night out. So, yeah, you’re not invited this time.” Lady said as she took Trish’s hand on the way out. _These two lesbians, definitely aren’t sorry._
  * “It’s fine! We three are going to be just fine without you! Right, Kyrie-”
  * “We’re leaving too.” Nero was packing his stuff.
  * “It’s Valentine’s Day, Dante… I’m truly sorry.” Kyrie apologized earnestly.
  * “We have a date reservation on this pricey restaurant, so… yeah.” Nero shrugged.
  * “Maybe next time you can come on a double date with us!” Kyrie said optimistic, trying to cheer up Nero’s uncle. Only it didn’t. She just twisted the already existing knife to his heart, known as Dante’s love life. Nero aware of this, laughed loudly, adding salt to the injury.
  * “No… You both can go too, I won’t be in your way to happiness. I’ll just be here, in the dark, with my magazines, Ebony and Ivory on hand… ” He didn’t even get the chance to finish his acting, for his nephew was already leading his girlfriend to the exit.
  * “Right…”
  * “I’ll just wank myself to bleed then.” This was his typical Valentine’s Day when he didn’t have a hookup.



From all the possible holidays, the lover’s day, _more like singlehood day for him_ , was his least favorite.

Only served as a reminder of his bad luck in the ladies’ department.

Masturbating his misery away, he later went to sleep beside an unconscious Vergil, to have some kind of company.

* * *

**(Death's point-of-view narrative)**

  * “Ouch!” I cry as Angelica knits my skin, _~~*Hosanna’s*.~~_ Even when they heal, the scarring won’t turn out pretty, I’m certain of it. Well, I did actually ended up damaging further my betrothed’s skin amidst the fighting with my family… So, it’s not like I can blame myself solely. 
  * “Apologies, master. I’m almost finished with your back.” Angelica says concentrated, afraid of lacerating me more. We’re in the final touches of completing this accursed "rebirth ceremony", so I can have my own physical body. Won't need to possess anybody after this.
  * “So what’s the story behind this skeleton I’m in? **Motherfu-** ” I complain more as the needle pierces my muscles, trying to think of anything other than my body full of itching stitches and blood-inscribed _black magic_ prayers.
  * **“The 'donated' body is from a local funerary in Fortuna. The deceased was probably homeless. They were going to cremate their body, till I contacted the firm for an off-the-record arrangement. The body was fresh enough to receive a new vessel.”** She says as she goes to the deck’s barstool, replacing the emptied whiskey bottle on my hand, my ever-thoughtful Lica.
  * “Fuck!” I curse as I gulp down the Jack Daniel’s bottle. Numbing a fraction of the pain this forbidden reincarnation rite offers. I realize now why it's prohibited... Putting aside the pagan and occultic origins, the scriptures inside this irrelevant Necromancy book we're following, ~~*~~ _ ~~raising of the dead ritual and transmigration*,~~_ never recommended once in its procedures, required medical expertise supervision!



Well, darn it, I've trespassed far more dangerous zones than clandestine surgery.

The least I can do at the moment is getting drunk in the middle of the ocean.

  * “Expect the biological body to reject the stitched foreign skin at first for a while. On another note, your spirit and soul shall attach to the new vessel in no time when I finish writing the sigils on your skin.” Angelica went to grab another bowl of blood to continue her ministrations. _It’s not from animals, don’t worry._ **I'm going vegan.**
  * “ _Nice_ …” As I ingest the rest of the alcohol, I observe the deck’s surroundings. If one of the staff members were unfortunate to come across the ship’s terrace, they’d probably interpret what I’m seeing right now, as a grotesque criminal scene. And a bloodied lunatic in the middle of it. On the brighter side, when you have the kind of money and contacts that I have, I can ensure I have all the privacy in the world. It’s astounding how power makes you get away with murder in this place.
  * “Angelica, tell them to prepare my bath for me. Liquid gold and Chardonnay, please.” I ask her while lighting my cigar and enjoying the view ahead.
  * “Let us celebrate my return from the dead, precious daughter.” I turn to Lica, my always reliable right arm.
  * “As you wish, master.” She replies smiling, as I start to chain-smoke cigars, underneath the stars. I can already see a brilliant future lying ahead of us, just beyond these waters.



In silence, I begin to wonder how this world has been handling my early and forced * ~~ _resignation*_~~ retirement till now…

I can only imagine my overworked raven succeded in delivering my sentiments to humanity.

I wouldn’t ever think to egress from this Earth without leaving my departure’s gift.

As in deathly and lethal presents, I mean.

Maybe I should get a day off to my birds too, for their good work reaping souls in my absence...

  * **"Red Grave City, I’m coming after your soul next."** _~~*~~_ _ ~~If these bloody stitches don’t kill me before.*~~_



[ ](https://www.wikigallery.org/wiki/painting_231110/Alfred-Rethel/Death-as-Assassin%2C-1851)

**_"Death as Assassin" (1851) by Alfred Rethel._ **

**_Rethel was inspired by a work that the celebrated poet Heinrich Heine had done on the unexpected wave of Cholera in 1832 at the Paris carnival._ **

**_In_ ** **_this picture, death plays a bone-made kind of violin, while the musicians flee the place._ **

**_On the ground, some people are already killed by cholera._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # More About Death's Personification;
> 
> "(Judaism) In Hebrew scriptures, Death ("Maweth/Mavet(h)") is sometimes personified as a devil or angel of death (e.g., Habakkuk 2:5; Job 18:13). 
> 
> "In both the Book of Hosea and the Book of Jeremiah, Maweth/Mot is mentioned as a deity to whom Yahweh can turn over Judah as punishment for worshiping other gods."
> 
> "The memitim are a type of angel from biblical lore associated with the mediation over the lives of the dying. The name is derived from the Hebrew word mĕmītǐm (מְמִיתִים – 'executioners', 'slayers', 'destroyers') and refers to angels that brought about the destruction of those whom the guardian angels no longer protected. 
> 
> "While there may be some debate among religious scholars regarding the exact nature of the memitim, it is generally accepted that, as described in the Book of Job 33:22, they are killers of some sort."
> 
> Form and functions;
> 
> "According to the Midrash, the Angel of Death was created by God on the first day. His dwelling is in heaven, whence he reaches earth in eight flights, whereas Pestilence reaches it in one. He has twelve wings. 'Over all people have I surrendered thee the power,' said God to the Angel of Death, 'only not over this one [i.e. Moses] which has received freedom from death through the Law.'"
> 
> "It is said of the Angel of Death that he is full of eyes. In the hour of death, he stands at the head of the departing one with a drawn sword, to which clings a drop of gall. As soon as the dying man sees Death, he is seized with a convulsion and opens his mouth, whereupon Death throes the drop into it. This drop causes his death; he turns putrid, and his face becomes yellow. The expression 'the taste of death' originated in the idea that death was caused by a drop of gall."
> 
> "The soul escapes through the mouth, or, as is stated in another place, through the throat; therefore, the Angel of Death stands at the head of the patient (Adolf Jellinek, l.c. ii. 94, Midr. Teh. to Ps. xi.). When the soul forsakes the body, its voice goes from one end of the world to the other, but is not heard (Gen. R. vi. 7; Ex. R. v. 9; Pirḳe R. El. xxxiv.)."
> 
> "The drawn sword of the Angel of Death, mentioned by the Chronicler (I. Chron. 21:15; comp. Job 15:22; Enoch 62:11), indicates that the Angel of Death was figured as a warrior who kills off the children of men. 'Man, on the day of his death, falls down before the Angel of Death like a beast before the slaughterer' (Grünhut, "Liḳḳuṭim", v. 102a). R. Samuel's father (c. 200) said: "The Angel of Death said to me, 'Only for the sake of the honor of mankind do I not tear off their necks as is done to slaughtered beasts'" ('Ab. Zarah 20b).
> 
> "In later representations, the knife sometimes replaces the sword, and reference is also made to the cord of the Angel of Death, which indicates death by throttling. Moses says to God: 'I fear the cord of the Angel of Death' (Grünhut, l.c. v. 103a et seq.). Of the four Jewish methods of execution, three are named in connection with the Angel of Death: Burning (by pouring hot lead down the victim's throat), slaughtering (by beheading), and throttling. The Angel of Death administers the particular punishment that God has ordained for the commission of sin."
> 
> "A peculiar mantle ("idra"—according to Levy, "Neuhebr. Wörterb." i. 32, a sword) belongs to the equipment of the Angel of Death (Eccl. R. iv. 7). The Angel of Death takes on the particular form which will best serve his purpose; e.g., he appears to a scholar in the form of a beggar imploring pity (the beggar should receive Tzedakah)(M. Ḳ. 28a). 
> 
> "When pestilence rages in the town, walk not in the middle of the street, because the Angel of Death [i.e., pestilence] strides there; if peace reigns in the town, walk not on the edges of the road. When pestilence rages in the town, go not alone to the synagogue, because there the Angel of Death stores his tools. If the dogs howl, the Angel of Death has entered the city; if they make sport, the prophet Elijah has come" (B. Ḳ. 60b)."
> 
> "The 'destroyer' (saṭan ha-mashḥit) in the daily prayer is the Angel of Death (Ber. 16b). Midr. Ma'ase Torah (compare Jellinek, "B. H." ii. 98) says: "There are six Angels of Death: Gabriel over kings; Ḳapẓiel over youths; Mashbir over animals; Mashḥit over children; Af and Ḥemah over man and beast."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> "Whatever dies really does not die.
> 
> We see it not;  
> Therefore, we feel that it has died.
> 
> Death is only another shore  
> Of the Reality-sea.
> 
> Death is only another way  
> To God-Reality’s Shore."
> 
> -Sri. Chinmoy


	9. False Sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because I could not stop for Death,  
> He kindly stopped for me.
> 
> The Carriage held but just Ourselves,  
> And Immortality.
> 
> We slowly drove - He knew no haste.
> 
> And I had put away,  
> My labor and my leisure too,  
> For His Civility.
> 
> We passed the School, where Children strove,  
> At Recess - In the Ring.
> 
> We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain,  
> We passed the Setting Sun,  
> Or rather - He passed us.
> 
> The Dews drew quivering and chill  
> For only Gossamer, My Gown,  
> My Tippet - Only Tulle.
> 
> We paused before a House that seemed  
> A Swelling of the Ground.
> 
> The Roof was scarcely visible.  
> The Cornice - In the Ground.
> 
> Since then - ‘tis Centuries - and yet,  
> Feels shorter than the Day,  
> I first surmised the Horses’ Heads,  
> Were toward Eternity- "  
>    
> "Because I Could Not Stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # 'Arrivederci' (Italian) translates as "See you later" in English;
> 
> # More about the personification of Death;
> 
> "In Scandinavia, Norse mythology personified death in the shape of Hel, the goddess of death and ruler over the realm of the same name, where she received a portion of the dead. In the times of the Black Plague, Death would often be depicted as an old woman known by the name of Pesta, meaning 'plague hag', wearing a black hood."
> 
> "She would go into a town carrying either a rake or a broom. If she brought the rake, some people would survive the plague; if she brought the broom, however, everyone would die."
> 
> "Scandinavians later adopted the Grim Reaper with a scythe and black robe."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Original Characters
> 
> # Honey (nickname) - "Lucy's Garage" gogo boy and Death's personal stylist;
> 
> # Trinity (Death's serpent/bat/dragon);
> 
> "The Christian doctrine of the Trinity (Latin: Trinitas, lit. 'triad', from Latin: trinus 'threefold') holds that God is one God, but three coeternal and consubstantial persons: the Father, the Son (Jesus Christ), and the Holy Spirit."
> 
> "The three persons are distinct, yet are one 'substance, essence or nature' (homoousios). In this context, a 'nature' is what one is, whereas a 'person' is who one is."
> 
> -Wikipedia

[ **** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hel_\(being\))

_**"Hel" (1889) by Johannes Gehrts.** _

_**"'Hel', the female being, holding a staff, and flanked by what is presumably the hound Garmr - both atop a cliff's ledge.** _

_**I**_ _**n the background, a serpent crawls around among roots, a basin sits,** _

_**And partially shadowed figures appear to be in movement below the cliff."** _

_**-Wikipedia** _

* * *

**THE CAPITAL OF ALL SAINTS**

_~~*Mismatched Rendezvous*~~ _ ~~~~

* * *

  * **“Stop this damned limousine!”** I say with my eyes closed, sprawled on the backseat.



Not satisfied with drinking all the ship's booze on a week in the impetuous sea, I drank infected blood from a random cruise employee and a busty flight attendant on the landing plane. My bad.

The only way now to cure my hangover and "flight sickness" is by drinking more, my doctors said, also known as the voices in my head.

I promise I'll _try_ to be more selective with who I suck from now on.

With Everything spinning nonstop, I’m already regretting having an actual body.

  * “Master, we’re in the middle of the traffic-” Angelica didn’t get to finish her sentence for I was already opening the car’s door to leave.



I don’t care if I get run over, I just need the world to sit still for a second.

As I look ahead of me, I see a shopping mall in the distance. Just a few blocks from where I am. This gives me ideas.

  * “Park the car Lica! I’ll be right back.” I shout at her. I can hear the tires break as soon as I left the automobile. The citizens of Red Grave City will have her head on a stake if she continues to stay parked in the middle of the street. Anyways, off we go for some good ol' shopping!



  
As I was just one block from the building, I hear whimpering coming from the alley on my right side.

Being the adrenaline junkie and impulsive creature that I am, I decided to investigate the mysterious sound.

For my discontentment, it wasn’t a fight. At all. It was just plain unjustified violence.

Something I abhor with a passion is when a coward points a weapon to a defenseless target.

 _For the love of Dad_ , pick a real adversary!

I approach the assaulter, as he proceeds to kick the puppy. I can’t stand it. Didn’t I make it clear that I’m an _animal activist_? Interrupting altogether his dishonorable acts, I begin my lecture.

  * “Don’t make me warn you again, desecrator!” I growl at the devil-man as I have my hand inside his chest, readily squeezing his heart.
  * "You never warned me! I don't even know you!" Unsatisfied with his choice of last words, I squeeze a bit further his greased organ.
  * **“STOP! PLEASE!”** He sobs, beginning to claw my wrist to free himself from my firm grip on his body. I wouldn’t be so reckless if I were in his position, I could “accidentally” explode his heart with a little more pressure. The ones who love most to provoke fear in others are my favorites to break. Good-for-nothing bullies.
  * “I will. Only if you promise me one thing. From this day onward, you’ll stay a mile away from any animal.” His eyes are starting to roll back, losing focus.
  * "Yes, that's what you heard. You may start a feces-only diet for all I care." He must now be staring into the "light".
  * "If disturbing others gives you a hard-on, you should see me on my average day in Hell, you'd be less than dogmeat there, scumbag." I slap hard his face to maintain him awake, didn't finish my speech.
  * “If I ever feel you point a finger at my esteemed companions again, and trust me, I’ll know if you do, I’ll give your heart to your sufferers to feast on.” I'll have my serpent, **Trinity** , stalking his slumber from now on. He's never going to escape me.
  * “Disappoint me and you’ll wish you were vacationing in hell with a broken back.” I am final. He’ll probably have heart problems for the rest of his life if he lives to tell. Serves him right.
  * “You may go now. Shoo.” I say disinterested. I retract my darkened sclera and veiny pale face. If my words didn’t suffice, I’m sure my corpse-like transformation proved to him my seriousness on the subject. _Someone_ should call an ambulance just from the looks of his faint sprawled body. Bloodloss, I assume?



* * *

  * “Where was I!?” I turn brightly to the pup dog laid on the ground.
  * “You’re safe now most awesome pet!” I say as I fetch the hurt, weeping dog on my embrace. It's a girl, I discover.
  * “I’ll make the pain go away, don’t be afraid.” I pull a piece of my finger off, letting the blood freely drop on the puppy’s wounds. As she heals, her cries die down.
  * “See… All better!” I give a toothy grin. I just can’t with cuteness, it’s my weak spot. I feel overwhelmed already.
  * “Thank you, lord/lady Azrael!” The animal answers me. This gets me by surprise. A talking dog? Wait- 
  * “Are you perhaps Cerberus’ offspring?” I said tilting my head, as the gears on my mind start to move. When I was just a newborn, I used to play with my Father's pets. Dinosaurs and whatnots.



**_Some of my happiest "childhood" memories slips inside me._ **

  * “Yes! Thank you again for pitying this vassal without warden!” So a demon dressed as a puppy… Very clever, they got my attention.
  * “I hope you didn’t plan to trick me into pitying you, dog or not…” I say with a malicious wide grin.
  * “Never, milord/milady! As my progenitor was defeated by The Legendary Devil Hunter, I didn’t inherit my full potential as a devil hound.”
  * “You’re one of the rare beings that respect me, you know, and for that, I’ll show you mercy.” I say with praise as my heart is warm. _Who would’ve thought being loved can sometimes be more fulfilling than hatred and fear?_ I think as I fawn the dog's soft fur.
  * “If you permit me, milord/milady, I shall serve you under the shadow of your majestic wings!” I can’t with flatteries too. I could easily blush now if I had a real heart. When you’re used to be the ugly duckling of your astral neighborhood, to be appreciated is mindboggling good. This demon pup and I have many things in common I realize. **Both the underdog of our families.**
  * “How could I say no to a puppy!?” I shed tears of happiness. Dogs are the man’s best friend surely!
  * “Let’s go!” I put her under my arm, resuming my walk to the shopping’s entrance. This place is huge. I suspect we'll get lost a little…
  * “Sir/Miss, you cannot enter with animals inside!” Said the security guard caught up with me as I pass the automatic doors.
  * “Not only can, as I will.” We continue walking as the guarder is left motionless behind us. He’ll get back to normal in a moment or two.
  * “I have a list of things I want to do as a human. For one, I want to get rid of this bathrobe I’m wearing since yesterday's trip. Let’s buy something fashionable for ourselves.” I say as I pat the dog’s soft greyish fur. She licks my fingers in response. What an adorable little monster for a pet.



* * *

We enter some high-end tailor shop, searching for handmade suits to buy. The fancy three-piece-suits are a gift for my daughter and granddaughter;

All distinguished patterns are colored in midnight black, dark grey, maroon and crimson, their favorite colors.

I even added some vibrancy to all this darkness with colorful patterned ties.

A single pink-toned neck scarf for Lica, and some matching shoes to accompany Daemon's tuxedos for the final touch.

In case I don't meet their rigorous and demanding style, I'll have to appeal to them with my dramatics.

_~~*Daemon's~~ _ ~~_the most finesse of us three, needless to say, the pickiest.*_ ~~ ~~~~

As I was about to pass my black credit card on the register to finalize the buying, I realized I didn’t have one on me in the first place. Who did always all the shopping was Lica...

I’ll just have to pull up something for this immediate crisis.

  * “Apologies, miss. I need to refresh myself in your toilet room.” I didn’t let the clerk answer my obvious excuse to fallback from paying.



Entering the bathroom with the dog still under my arm, I put her on the counter, awaiting the unlucky soul who I’ll get to rob today.

Washing my hands on the farthest end of this expensive sink, the bathroom mirror reveals to me the men’s door opening, a rather mature-looking man goes in the direction of the closest urinal. 

Turning off the sink, I dry my hands. 

Nonchalantly I proximate myself to the man and knock him down on the back of his neck.

He passes out instantly, meeting the floor's tile.

I drag his sleeping body to the nearby stall, hiding him before I grab his wallet.

  * “Sorry for the wait! I needed to perform my normal bodily functions, like everyone else… Excrete the waste, if you know what I mean.” I wink at the cashier. She’s open-mouthed. Was I rude? She can't tell me her shit doesn't stink...



I give her the credit card. 

  * “Huh, sir/miss, you exceeded your card’s limit. The buying was rejected.” She says almost sorry, trying to believe this was a system error, but as she sees my choice of clothing, a plain white bathrobe followed by no shoes, she stares me up and down with scrutiny.
  * “It must be a mistake. I suggest you pass the card again.” So the man I robbed was poorer than me… What a pity.



As she did as I said reluctantly, expecting to humiliate me a second time, the card “magically” is accepted. She blinks.

From nowhere appeared two million dollars on credit. Just a little trick of mine.

When she was about to pass the card the second time, I wrote the numbers I wanted on the palm of my hand, manipulating the credit card account as I wished.

  * “I guess that’ll be all, right?” I give a fake smile.
  * “I want everything delivered tomorrow on “Lucy’s Garage”, make the wrapping extra lovely. It’s a gift.”
  * “Ah, one more thing, before I forget. The wallet is from my husband, be a sweetheart, and retrieve it for me. He’s still on the men’s washroom.” I leave the store, not waiting for a response anymore.
  * “What did you think of her?” The demon dog on my arms barked at my question.
  * “The same here, pal.” I say agreeing with her.
  * “There’s one more thing to cross on my present list…”



* * *

We’re now seeking an armory shop. I can’t have my dearest running this town without a proper arsenal.

As much as I trust her better judgment on this area than mine, I can demonstrate I’m educating myself on the art of war. I did choose this market, after all, a sorry excuse of mercenary I am…

  * “I want all the weaponry on your catalog.” I begin to the owner of the gun store.
  * “Hm… Are you sure miss/mister…?” Why they never listen to me from the start? Is it my clothes?
  * “No, I’m not sure of anything related to guns. That’s why I want all of them. It’s a little gift for someone dear to me.” I reveal just enough about me.
  * “Actually, I want something flashy. Unique.” Motivation comes into me.
  * “I can show you some pieces we have, maybe one of them catches your eye?” I agree with the old man. He’s nice. I have a thing for old people. I don’t know if it’s the acquired wisdom, or the fact that they are a step to fall dead. Figures.  
As he shows me machine guns, bayonets, rifles, I get bored. To be honest, I prefer to get my hands dirty during a battle. Angelica is more of the clean freak between the two of us. Our opposite nature brings a smirk to my frown.



  * “Miss/Mister, as much as I’d like for you to buy all my stock of guns, I don’t sell to amateurs, as a tradition. No offense."
  * “None was taken.” He’s right, these bad boys are worthy of an engaged customer, which I’m not.
  * “Could you recommend me someone that can guide me in this new world?” I ask him.
  * “I have the contact of the right one for you! Wait here!” The old man says a bit excited. This someone must be commendable if they get to animate this man’s spirit just by association.
  * “Here it is.” He handles a card he fished from his storage's drawers.
  * **“Nicoletta Goldstein?”** I try the name. Behind this card is a logo for some Devil May Cry site.
  * “She’ll be able to design and forge anything you demand!” He says fondly of her.
  * “Right. Thank you very much for your time, sir.” Before I go…
  * “Do you by chance have a dog’s Kevlar available?” I charge the prices of my shopping on my stolen credit card. Before I exit the premises, I toss it in the nearby garbage can. It's useless to me now.



I pass through a crowd of curious people behind a "do not cross" tape and a commotion of police officers in my way. Is it a murder scene?

No, it's only the alley I was on earlier this day.

The "friend" I was chatting with before, obtained somehow help from someone. The ambulance's siren sounding distant from here...

Lucky bastard.

Not my problem anymore.

* * *

Walking back to the limousine with a packed strawberry cake, _~~*Daemon'~~ ~~ _s_ favorite*~~_, and doggie with a kevlar on hand, Angelica opens the car's door. It’s almost evening.

I made her lose her lunchtime. Fuck!

  * “Everything on accord, master?” She asks as she closes the door to go to the driver’s seat. She takes notice of the dog in particular but doesn't make a comment.
  * “Yes. I had some misfortunes here and there, but nothing that couldn't be dealt with.” I reply looking to the city's sunset. Nothing compares to the simple things in life.



We drive in silence to our club.

The hectic passers-by reminding me of the mess we're all in.

I think it's Thursday night today?

Just arrived at this bustling town and the mundane life is already trying to alienate me.

Thank goodness the hangover passed after my noon shopping spree.

Time to go on another drinking rampage, baby.

* * *

Limousine parked on the parking lot of this twenty-story building, I eagerly enter the backdoors of the pitch-dark first floor before Lica.

My first actual home.

Before I can strain my sight in the darkness, the lights of this floor are abruptly turned on. Blinding me for a good minute.

  * “SURPRISE!” I hear a dozen voices shouting. Adjusting my vision, I can see what one would describe as a surprise reception party.
  * “ **Huh**?” Who are these strangers? One, in particular, is running towards me, and I have to stifle my reflex to undertake him.
  * “Boss! Nice to finally fucking meet you!” He hugs me so strongly that I hear a crack on my end. He reallocated my spine in place. I’m already content. The others smile and laugh at this cheeky man, who is currently spinning me like a rag doll. Not going to lie, it’s funny.
  * “You can put them down now, **Honey.** ” Angelica says the man's nickname, I presume. Always the responsible one. He gives me two kisses on the cheek before letting me go.
  * “I’ll introduce every single one of you, calm down.” She says with a curt chuckle while one of the girls is kissing my hands. Am I their messiah? Cool.



We’re drinking bottle after bottle of champagne as a celebration for my safe arrival. One of the dancers is engaged in a conversation with me. Can't bother to remember her name however.

We’re beyond drunk already, and I’m trying my hardest to imprint everyone on my unfocused mind. It might be important on a future note to know who my servants are, in case one of them present a threat.

A general theme about all of them is the prostitution career they previously led, forced or not.

Even if I’m seeing double, I can confirm they’re all more than fuckable people even with clothes on.

And if they’re talented as much as they’re attractive, with a diploma or not, we can make some amends.

~~*~~ _~~Maybe even behind four-walls*.~~ _

  
All said, my “accidental" request to Angelica specifically hire former-prostitutes doesn’t pass by me.

_Hosanna comes quickly into mind._

I pinch myself hard to make myself present, cutting some skin with my nails, drawing blood, as I start to gaze drunkenly at my adoptive daughter.

~~_*Sometimes I mentally laugh at the irony of me being someone's parent.*_ ~~

Angelica can attest to my fondness for broken people. Her roots weren’t the most pleasing If my memory doesn't fail me.

I can barely recall them at the moment. Must be my drunkenness obscuring me. Clouding my consciousness.

  * “Master, I suggest you go change on the penthouse. We’ll be opening the club in a few hours.” Lica says to me. She only had a glass that I urged her to drink. 



I kiss her goodbye for now.

  * “ _Arrivederci~_ hottest people I’ve met so far!” I wink, waving at everyone, as they whistle and scream cheerfully obscenities in response.



Home sweet home. It's like I'm residing in the [Second Circle of Hell](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inferno_\(Dante\)#:~:text=In%20the%20second%20circle%20of,a%20violent%20storm%2C%20without%20rest.), and I'm loving every second of it!

They’re for sure handling their liquor better than me though.

Props to them, shame on me, I guess?

With gypsy steps, I go after the elevator with the still-unnamed puppy under my arm and cake in my unoccupied hand.

It's time to lick my old wounds in private I decide.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> -“So who wants to go all crazy in this masquerade party tonight?!” Said Dante with his hookup from Love Planet around his arm.  
> -“The one at that ‘Lucy’s Garage’? Heard they're going to throw a party for the owner’s arrival…” Lady said vaguely looking at Trish.  
> Doing another kind of physical exercise than the usual "push-ups" on the bed could be even hotter. Trish catching her soul’s intent blows her a kiss.  
> -“Dancing?” Kyrie sheepishly perks at this. She secretly likes to dance.
> 
> The crew look back at her.
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> "Bury me when I die  
> Beneath a wine barrel-  
> In a tavern.
> 
> With luck,  
> The cask will leak."
> 
> "Death Poem" by Moriya Sen’an


	10. Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What shall I become when this body is dead and gone?
> 
> A tall, thick pine tree on the highest peak of Bongraesan,  
> Evergreen alone when white snow covers the whole world.
> 
> As the sound of the drum calls for my life,  
> I turn my head where sun is about to set.
> 
> There is no inn on the way to the underworld.  
> At whose house shall I sleep tonight?"
> 
> "Execution Poem" by Seong Sam-mun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # Danse Macabre; 
> 
> "'The Danse Macabre' (/dɑːns məˈkɑːb(rə)/; French pronunciation: [dɑ̃s ma.kabʁ]) (from the French language), also called the 'Dance of Death', is an artistic genre of allegory of the Late Middle Ages on the universality of death: no matter one's station in life, the Danse Macabre unites all."
> 
> "The Danse Macabre consists of the dead or a personification of death summoning representatives from all walks of life to dance along to the grave, typically with a pope, emperor, king, child, and laborer. It was produced as memento mori, to remind people of the fragility of their lives and how vain were the glories of earthly life."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> # 'La Fiesta de todas las fiestas' (Spanish) means "The Party of all parties" in English;
> 
> # Panem et circenses; 
> 
> ORIGIN OF "BREAD AND CIRCUSES"
> 
> "1910–15; translation of Latin pānis et circēnsēs; from a remark by the Roman satirist Juvenal on the limited desires of the Roman populace."
> 
> "Something, as extravagant entertainment, offered as an expedient means of pacifying discontent or diverting attention from a source of grievance."
> 
> "A phrase used by a Roman writer to deplore the declining heroism of Romans after the Roman Republic ceased to exist and the Roman Empire began: 'Two things only the people anxiously desire — bread and circuses.' The government kept the Roman populace happy by distributing free food and staging huge spectacles." 
> 
> "'Bread and circuses' has become a convenient general term for government policies that seek short-term solutions to public unrest."
> 
> Source: dictionary.com
> 
> # 'Señorita' (Spanish) means lady in English.

* * *

**_ '[PANEM ET CIRCENSES'](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread_and_circuses#:~:text=%22Bread%20and%20circuses%22%20\(or,cultural%2C%20particularly%20political%2C%20contexts.) _ **

_~~No Good Deed Goes Unpunished pt. 1~~ _

* * *

**(God's point-of-view chapter narrative)**

  * “So who wants to go nuts in _La Fiesta de todas las fiestas_ tonight?!” Said Dante practicing his Spanish with a _señorita_ from **Love Planet** around his arm. They're all gathered in the Devil May Cry overrun office.
  * “The one at 'Lucy’s Garage'? Heard they're going to throw a feast for the owner’s arrival…” Lady said vaguely looking at Trish. Doing other kinds of physical exercise than their usual "push-ups" on the bed could be even hotter. Trish catching her soul’s intent blows a kiss back at her.
  * “Dancing?” Kyrie sheepishly perks at this. She privately likes to dance. The crew looks back at her.



After finishing attending **"Slice of Heaven"** demands on this busy Wednesday, she found herself stressed by the end of the day.

She opened the second branch of her pastry shop just recently, about twelve months ago, when the Qliphoth incident was slowly quieting down and the city somewhat moving on.

Not expecting her establishment to take off so fast, but it did.

The residents of Red Grave City craved for some form of heaven even if it came in the shape of buns and donuts.

  * “You sure, babe? Don’t want anyone falling asleep on my watch tonight. I’m not babysitting you guys.” Dante says half-heartedly to Kyrie, not minding his team that much, for his attention was elsewhere. Specifically on his hookup date, who was tentatively brushing her fingers up and down his leg as she moved to sit down on his lap. What was her name again? Paula? Paola from Love Planet? It doesn’t matter, she’s his favorite _exotic dancer_ blonde at the moment. She’s the apple from his eyes for all he cares.
  * “I agree with Dante, _just this time_.” Nero added soon before his uncle could interject with some witty remark.
  * “You should rest a little. Running the orphanage in Fortuna and your new business here is not an easy task. We can go out another day…” Nero said to Kyrie, not for a second doubting her skills and proficiency on her labor, as he always makes sure to remind everybody of his admiration towards her. 



Kyrie suspected he was asking to stay inside more on his behalf, than hers.

He was visibly tired from work, she, on the other hand, wanted a different distraction this night.

Her home place although beautiful was deprived of recreation and entertainment.

"Slice of Heaven" first store was inaugurated on Fortuna, as a way to pay the orphanage’s bills. After gaining recognition in her hometown, she decided to expand her business to Red Grave City, to spend more time with her dear.

Traveling back and forth between cities, every two weeks didn’t take a toll on her, for now. 

It’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make to be beside her family.

  * “Actually, Nero, I want you to get some sleep tonight. Don’t take me wrong, but your eye bags are imploring for you to do so.” She says thoughtfully as she caresses with her thumb his darkened under eyes. 
  * “Will you come with me?” He says not containing his yawn.
  * “I’m sorry, but I _really_ want to go to this masquerade party…” She says with her voice toned down and batting eyelashes, believing he can understand what she’s implying.
  * “But!-” Before Nero could whine about who would protect her if he wasn’t there, he was interrupted by Nico.
  * **“Oh for fuck’s sake, shitface! Quit the melodrama! Kyrie will stay glued with us all night!”**
  * “That’s why I’m worried, you fucking genius!” Nero shouts back at her, starting to get annoyed with Nico, who stayed silent as much as she could while watching this modern age Romeo and Juliet on flesh. 
  * “Bitch! To be with me is to be with God himself!” Nico commenced their verbal engagement, as of custom. The two, bickering like the fake-siblings they are, brought more disorder to the lively Devil May Cry’s building.
  * “Change of plans, guys.” Dante said with eyelids half-closed in ecstasy as "Pamela" kissed his neck while pressing her chest on his side. Typical scenery on this household, whenever Dante required affection, much for the depression of everybody present.
  * “ _We’ll be heading early to bed, try not to miss me so much...”_ Dante smiles at Nero for his innuendo. Stripper and occasional hooker on his side following his steps shortly, they both go upstairs to his room. 



Nero readily stops his altercation with Nico, groaning at his uncle’s devil-may-care attitude.

He’ll have to shatter his eardrums, again, with his headphone's music if he wants to sleep through Dante’s sex escapade tonight. Boisterous old fart. 

  * “If something happens to her-” Nero is interrupted again, this time by Trish.
  * “We got it, loverboy.” Trish says while munching a slice of pizza she’s sharing with Lady.
  * “We’ll bring her back safe and sound, just like she came. Scout’s word!” Lady finishes her beer and mocks a vow's stance while Trish takes her other hand to lead her to the shop's exit.
  * “Let’s go, redhead. Bye asshole!” Nico gives Nero her middle finger. Kyrie swiftly pecks her lover’s lips, saying her goodbyes and wishing a good night of sleep to him. Reluctantly, he lets go of her, entrusting his friend Kyrie’s safety. The mere idea sends him shivers. Going to the entrance door to see the girls leave to the nightclub, he listens.
  * “Ladies, I have some sexy outfits we can use on the van’s trunk! Just don’t ask me why…” Nico suddenly trailed off a potentially long-long story.
  * “Alright then! Ready to party with one of the best partners in crime you’ll ever have?!” Trish says to Kyrie seductively. She and Lady are absolute beasts when it comes to the nightlife, Nico is proving to be just as insane as them.
  * **“YES!”** Kyrie says excited, she never had a girl’s night out before. Her heart is pounding anxiously for this unique experience.



They all laugh closing the van’s door. This night will for sure enter history. 

The illustrious foursome of one devil clone and her human demon-slayer girlfriend, a hillbilly hottie and a not-that-religious ginger girl, board on the promising "Lucy’s Garage" fantasy party. 

Unbeknownst to everyone, themed after the former "Night-Cherubim" brothel by Angelica. As a welcoming present for Death’s return.

Promising night admittedly, as desires and urges are in full bloom.

Everyone’s past, present, and future collide and converge in this "by chance" encounter.

I won’t call It Destiny, for my child Azrael detest this term…

I'll only spoil you this much,

These oblivious and lost children of Mine,

They're all in for their greatest waltz **.**

**The Dance of Death.**

Very well, _Am I forgetting something-_

  * “How you doing, old man?” Nero halts in front of Vergil’s quarter, which conveniently is across his room. Dante’s in the middle. His estranged father seems inquisitive.
  * “Nothing much-” Vergil was about to voice his problems, expecting a conversation to blossom between the two of them, till he heard Nero’s door close across the corridor.
  * “Night!” Nero yelled from his bedroom.
  * “Goodnight.” Vergil slightly grinned at the simple interaction, they’re much alike. 



Since his return from the Demon World, he caught Nero reading in secrecy his old diary, almost in trance by his book of poems. Perhaps trying to acquaint himself with his new-found father.

Their relationship has been amenable considering the circumstances of this dysfunctional family.

Vergil's very aware he has a lifetime of child support to catch up to, though.

The floors and walls on the room adjacent to his started to terribly shake and creak. The howling moans somehow grew louder.

As dust and cracks formed on his recently repaired chamber, Vergil grabbed his coat and Yamato, heading downstairs for a _peaceful_ night walk to reflect on the day’s events.

When he stepped on the shop’s sidewalk, he heard walls falling. 

Dante, _again_.

Does he actually need to devil-trigger amidst all of his sexual intercourses?

The difference now is that he wrecked Nero’s bedroom this time.

His son’s colorful swearing and curses can be heard at this end of the neighborhood.

Breathing pleased, he continues his roaming on the city’s pavement.

Grasping his disposable cellphone on one hand, he dialed Morrison’s number, while massaging his earlier assaulted nape.

He waited on the line while trying to connect the dots on who succeeded in knocking him down unconscious, a son of Sparda above all, and likely passed as his “spouse” as they boldly stole from him.

Only this wasn’t a common robbery or scam.

He had his wallet retrieved almost intact, If it wasn't for the missing credit card, being informed soon after by the establishment’s workers that his "partner" went ahead of him on their shopping.

The staff didn’t give any remarkable description of who his mysterious mate was or their appearance, other than that they were only wearing a white bathrobe.

To not arise suspicion, he let them be, deciding to proceed with his own investigation.

Contacting on the same noon his bank agency, he discovered this strange "mate" of his, moved approximately half-million from his money deposit, leaving puzzling two million on his account behind.

Contrary to his brother, he isn’t in debt. He’s more than comfortable.

He only prefers to use the old ways of dealing with currency.

Physical money. Precious metals. Gold.

They’re far more substantial than lending his man-power to the fates of virtual credit by the possession of any human institution.

He likes his properties secured, close to him, cared for by worthy hands.

Take his prized katana as an example...

Money isn’t the concern here.

No, not for a man like him.

  * “Morrison, I'm afraid I'll be in need of your services.” Vergil smirked as he absently stroked the ghost of his bruise on his neck, leaving a voice-mail to Dante's associate.



[ ](https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/danse-macabre-david-pumpkins-art-history)

**_"A detail from an 18th-century oil painting depiction of the Dance of Death."_**

**_-Atlas Obscura_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> "Just got off from work, it was awful late~  
> I had to pass the cemetery gate~  
> The sky was dark and the moon was bright~  
> It was a very, very, cold, cold night~
> 
> I never thought I could see such a sight~  
> A poor soul doing the dead mans stroll~  
> Just then I saw that gate and hall~  
> Must have been going to a dead mans ball~
> 
> May not believe it but it has to be told~  
> A poor soul doing the dead mans stroll~  
> The whole line!~
> 
> I wasn't sure there, was nothing to trail~  
> We went on strolling for miles and miles~  
> Just before I~  
> The last turn I was home~  
> I was now doing the dead mans stroll~
> 
> Bee-doo-bee-doo~" 
> 
> I sing horrendously The Revels' Midnight Stroll song, playing through the lounge's speakers, while I scrub my scarred and botched skin, in the penthouse's bathtub.  
> Don't want to startle my guests with the rottenness of my carrion...  
> I'd like to preserve some kind of dignity, yes;  
> After all, the body I now claimed as mine, was supposed to stay dead.  
> 


	11. Wormwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed.  
> But all I could do was to get drunk again."
> 
> "The suicide kid" by Charles Bukowski

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> # Hamman;
> 
> "Hammam literally translates to ‘spreader of warmth’ in Arabic. These steam bathhouses originated in Central Asia, where people came together not just to bathe, but also to relax, socialize and, at times, take part in rituals. The Unani book Al-Qanoon by Ibn-e-Seena, written in 1000 BC, says that a proper hammam treatment can make a person feel as fresh as a new-born. The hammam or Turkish bath has had a long and colourful history since its arrival in India in the medieval era."
> 
> Source: thebetterindia.com
> 
> # Wormwood; 
> 
> "Wormwood (ἀψίνθιον apsinthion or ἄψινθος apsinthos in Greek) is a star or angel that appears in the Book of Revelation;  
> The Biblical Hebrew word לענה (la'anah), translated into English as 'wormwood', occurs seven times in the Hebrew Bible, always with the implication of bitterness."
> 
> -Wikipedia
> 
> "Artemisia absinthium (wormwood, grand wormwood, absinthe, absinthium, absinthe wormwood, mugwort, wermout, wermud, wormit, wormod) is a species of Artemisia native to temperate regions of Eurasia and Northern Africa and widely naturalized in Canada and the northern United States. It is grown as an ornamental plant and is used as an ingredient in the spirit absinthe as well as some other alcoholic beverages."
> 
> "Artemisia comes from Ancient Greek ἀρτεμισία, from Ἄρτεμις (Artemis). In Hellenistic culture, Artemis was a goddess of the hunt, and protector of the forest and children. The name absinthum comes from the Ancient Greek ἀψίνθιον, meaning the same. An alternative derivation is that the genus was named after Queen Artemisia who was the wife and sister of Mausolus ruler of Caria. When Mausolus died c. 353 BC, he was buried in a huge tomb dedicated to his memory – the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the ruins of which are still present at Bodrum in modern-day Turkey."
> 
> "The word 'wormwood' comes from Middle English wormwode or wermode. Webster's Third New International Dictionary attributes the etymology to Old English wermōd (compare with German Wermut and the derived drink vermouth), which the OED (s.v.) marks as 'of obscure origin'."
> 
> The Greek word apsinthos, which is rendered with the English 'wormwood', is mentioned only once in the New Testament, in the Book of Revelation:
> 
> "The third angel blew his trumpet, and a great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many died from the water, because it was made bitter." -(Rev 8:10–11)
> 
> "Apsinthos is believed to refer to a plant of the genus Artemisia, used metaphorically to mean something with a bitter taste. The English rendering "wormwood" refers to the dark green oil produced by the plant, which was used to kill intestinal worms. In the Book of Revelation, it refers to the water being turned into wormwood, i.e. made bitter."
> 
> -Wikipedia

[ ](https://www.thebetterindia.com/59898/relive-medieval-bathing-rituals-at-this-300-years-old-hammam-indias-only-functional-turkish-bath/)

**_"Massage in a Bath House" (1890-91) painted by John Singer Sargent._ **

* * *

_**'[ARTEMISIA ABSINTHIUM'](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artemisia_absinthium)** _

~~_*No Good Deed Goes Unpunished pt. 2*_ ~~

* * *

**(Death's point-of-view narrative)**

Must be Daemon’s music playlist I'm hearing in the background, she told me in our previously exchanged letters that she has a preference for oldies...

Upon identifying the next music playing, I then commence my horrendous singing of The Revels' Midnight Stroll song, blasting through the lounge's speakers, while I scrub my scarred and botched skin in the penthouse's bathtub.

I'd like to preserve some kind of dignity, yes.

Don't want to startle my new guests with the rottenness of my carrion yet.

After all, the body I now claimed as mine was supposed to stay dead...

Personally, music is just a bunch of combined noises I tolerate most of the time.

No genre is safe in this case. I dislike them all equally.

But as many other rituals on humans celebrations, having some form of sound other than silence is a requirement. 

As I plan to blend in as smoothly as possible in society, I should appear the plainest, behaving like any other average human that graced this soil I now stand.

Scrubbing off the muck between my toes, _~~*Did the previous owner of this body rolled on dirt before dying!?*~~_ ~~,~~ I give a satisfied sigh as my shoulders are being massaged by a somewhat stranger. I can feel his arousal growing inside of him as he tentatively takes "discrete" glances towards the bubbles that cover my modesty.

What a peasant.

  * “As you wish, your honor.” Said this unnamed middle-aged man as I ordered him to use more pressure in his hands.
  * “How did you enter this vicinity again? Specifically, this toilet that is currently being used by yours truly?” I say as I lean on the spacious bathtub, not bothering my still nasty body at this moment.
  * “This tired soul has his learned ways to lock pick through life.” He said his name, which I purposefully didn’t pay attention to, expecting me to remember him by now. Sadly for him, I won’t break a sweat trying to discover if we had a past together or not.
  * “You came miraculously from nowhere, just to rub the spot on my back I can’t reach?” I say incredulously that a pervert went to the trouble of passing somehow through my bodyguard, Angelica, and breaking in this penthouse only to see my ugly self. _~~*Sorry, my improvised mended body.*~~_
  * “Ever since we met so long ago, I’ve prayed every day that I could get to see you again in any shape or form. I guess someone up there heard me, for my contacts discovered your whereabouts here on Earth.” This lunatic stalker calmly confesses. Who else knows I'm residing in Red Grave?
  * “Right… Where did we know each other really?” I say annoyed by the small talk this loser is forcing upon me.
  * “You presented yourself to me through my late wife’s horrified eyes, as I strangled her to death years ago.” He says coldly the last sentence.



We didn’t process how fast I had him thrown into the toilet’s bidet. **Or why I did it.**

He still manages, though, to muster a bloodied Cheshire grin, apprehensive of what I might do next to him.

  * “I know what you are.” This weirdo says as I quietly step off the tub, walking in his direction.
  * “Tell me more about it.” I say bored, already predicting the course of this conversation.
  * “You’re the birdy who followed me everywhere I went since childhood. My favorite one at that.” Naked, I grab him by the neck, choking him softly enough so he can finish his _last_ storytelling.
  * "Doesn't matter how much the devil asked of me, what I lost and gained 'cause of it. What matters to me is that you're the only bird my hands couldn't catch."
  * “Death. The Fallen Archangel.” Smiling wickedly through redden face as I constrict his oxygen intake for a minute, I let him go. He gasps out of involuntary impulse, for he’s one of the rare people who yearns my touch. A secret admirer of mine? That's always news.
  * “Congrats, you found me. Now what? You want a pat on the back for your prowess on taking someone’s life?” I say sarcastically to him, whatever his name is. Well, there you go, shook hands with your god.



As he’s regaining his breath, calming his thunderous heart, he rests his head on the split bidet, that is washing his open head wound, leaving heavy puddles of crimson blood around us.

I can already picture Angelica reprimanding this messiness.

  * “I came to see if you can be as ruthless as my victims described you. Now looking at you this close, I can say I’m not disappointed.”



I proximate myself even more, squatting inches from his face to get a better view of this psycho, having good access to his eyes as much as he's having a privileged view of Death’s crotch area.

He seems entranced by this piece of flesh.

  * “Who are you? 'The Godfather'?” I joke as I take his bruised head on my hands, studying briefly this man’s appearance. 



He’s your stereotypical mob boss, as I slowly apprehend his mannerism, expensive clothes, and jewelry that adorn him.

One ring in his pinkie, in particular, catches my attention, perhaps a symbol from the local mafia of Red Grave? Not pertinent now in anyway.

  * “Shouldn’t I be hurt you’ve forgotten me already after all I did? I thought we had a connection, that I was special to you.” His gross fat ass laughs. Who does he think he’s talking to? I look deeper into his eyes, staring into the bottom of his soul.
  * “Don’t get it twisted, piggy. Just because I’m the only one you’ve ever encountered that you couldn’t murder on its track, doesn’t mean it’s the universe's answer to your prayers. You’re only a waste of space.” I say growing angry by this man's assumption of me being his designed buddy.
  * “Don’t tell me you’ve spent all these years killing, so you could contact me?” He laughs cruelly, confirming my thoughts. Please, I was only being rhetorical.
  * “Wonderful! Here are my sentiments.” I get up from my crouch stance, eyeing him from above, as I begin to urinate on him. He did smash my bidet with his head, right? I need to relieve myself somewhere.



As soon as I started to leak, he promptly opened his mouth to swallow all of my urine, like the shameless human-toilet that he is. What a good boy! 

I scrunch in disgust at this short dick man whose trousers have been uncontrollably twitching by all of my ministrations. 

His hands are crawling in desperation on my opened legs, trying not to miss a single drop from the fount he’s drinking. Going as far as trying to suck my entrance.

I kick his throat before he reaches my private part. 

  * “You’ve been a naughty one, haven’t you? Send my regards to your dead wife, woman-beater.” I smile while opening my mouth wide, as my large serpent Trinity slithers from inside, falling on him.



I exit the bathroom nude, going towards the main closet, hoping to find the perfect garment for tonight’s party.

As I enter the walk-in room, I glance at all the clothes arranged by Honey for me, my "fairy godmother". They all meet my taste, thankfully. 

Upon listening to the faint groans and hustling coming from the bathroom augmenting in volume, I start to wish, for everyone's sake, that this penthouse is soundproof...

One attire in special, however, grabs my undivided attention. Displayed in front of me shining bright on my eyes.

I can’t contain the sweet irony of this piece before me. The perfect vest for the right occasion. I relish the feeling of latex on my fingertips.

  * “Good Seraph! Promise me you’ll call me later!” That man’s still alive!? The crunch noises grow louder as he gives wet coughs. That must be his lungs being perforated by his ribs. Trinity, naturally, likes to display her massive grip around her prey before ending their misery, all times playing with her food to then devouring it whole. Gluttonous like her owner.
  * “You wish!” I yell back at him. Call him? Not even if I had a phone in the first place. Furthermore, the place he’s going to end doesn’t have tower signals. 



Evil nipped in the bud, I go inspect the penthouse’s bar for some refreshers. 

After finding several absinthe bottles on the shelves, making me already weak in the knees with anticipation, I take the sealed box.

I’ll have Angelica bartend me later for she’s way more skilled in preparing fancy beverages than me, while I, on the other hand, can’t even cook if my life depended on it. 

Uncorking one of the bottles with my pointed teeth, I spit the cork on one of the living room sofas. Gulping down the contents as if it was water.

  * “Do you eat dog’s food, or something of the sort?” I turn to the nameless demon pup that was currently lying on his back, belly up, snoring a little. She kicks her leg in response. Must think she’s fighting her way in the Underworld.
  * “Probably not.” 



Entering the closet again with the pack of bottles of "Green Fairy" on hand, I search in the dressing’s table drawers all the necessary makeup items I’ll use for tonight.

Laying the bottles by my feet, and makeup brushes at my disposal, I look into the mirror as I only now notice the ground vibrating beneath me.

The party must have started without me well before...

Taking a black nail polish, I paint my nails while I figure what kind of art I’ll brush in my canvas that goes along with today’s outfit.

Out of the blue, however, I start to feel _green._ And something tells me it's not because of the taste of alcohol on my tongue.

Suddenly, It downs on me that I might be suffering one of the many drinking's side effects, a constant in every drunkard's life.

Apathy.

* * *

**(God’s point-of-view narrative)**

Meanwhile Death’s preparations to “Lucy’s Garage” ballad, the spectacular foursome "just" arrived on the night’s scene earlier than expected to enjoy the nightclub’s perks longer. 

Yet, they’ve been waiting on the end of the line for the past hour, a queue that seems to only grow in number, with some line-jumpers here and there ahead of them.

The security shamelessly cataloged the patrons' attractiveness, choosing the deserving ones of entering, and not allowing some of the most "ripe" people to cross the gates, generated indignation from everyone in the crowd, that was already crossing the block and making turns.

  * “I swear I’ll shoot this place up if we don’t enter this damned party in the next minute!” Lady cussed clenching her teeth, not wanting to believe she dressed up as a _knockoff werewolf_ for nothing. The costume's furs sticking to places that weren’t supposed to be stuck. Feeling itchy and degraded for committing such "social suicide", she begins to regret her "funny" choice of costume. More like a heinous smelly clothing now.
  * “What you gonna do, blow this place up like in the 'Three Little Pigs'?" Nico nudged Lady a bit in the cheek with her can. Luckly for Nico's case, Lady was busy throwing silent daggers at the enormous queue ahead.
  * "If so, you can fo' sure count me fucking in!” Nico said burping on the already warm beer that they brought from the van's minibar. She wants some kind of action that's worth of ruining her special garb. Dressed on her _brand new pizza costume_ with nothing underneath it, bought beforehand with the intention to entice poor little Dante, she quickly re-evaluate her love life. "Whatever" she concludes on her mind.
  * “Don’t wrinkle your face, baby. You know we can always take the party elsewhere, my big sweaty wolf…” Trish whispered on Lady’s ear, kissing the sweat away above her lips. This eased Lady enough that she didn’t start a fight right there in the middle of the crowd, for this instant she's focused on her partner’s attire. _The Big Bad Wolf and her obscenely tight Red Hood._
  * “Girls, trust me, it's gonna be worth-” Kyrie tried to animate her girlfriends' spirit until she felt her body shiver in goosebumps from head to toe. She went quiet. A foreign pull inside her heart resonates all through her, guided by intuition, she turns her eyesight to the surveillance cameras outside the building. She's being watched by **someone** _._
  * “Yeah, right, I practiced the waiting game enough. Let’s go.” Lady grabbed Kyrie by the arm, bumping and forcefully shoving aside everyone on their way. Nico skipped happily on her feet right behind the two women as Trish paraded through the open sea of people like one would in a catwalk.
  * “Listen to me carefully, for I’ll say this just once: You'll start moving your stupid fucking ass out of our faces, to let us fucking pass this club’s motherfucking doors, because I'm saying so!" She closed her eyes briefly, taking a quick breath after venting her frustration. 
  * **"NOW!”** Lady "patiently" aims her two pistols in the middle of the bouncer’s brows, beginning a mental countdown before shooting everything ablaze. Nico and Trish had immediately drawn their weapons to cover for Lady. The three were dead serious.



Kyrie on the other hand, wearing her _evil nun ensemble_ , wanted to bury her head on the ground from all the unwanted attention and commotion her friends started.

Although she cannot say she wasn't expecting the night to escalate so fast, for she's aware of who she hangouts.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> -"Didn't you hear the lady just now? Let us in, pretty please, boys." Said Trish, the siren, as she lowered her weapon slightly to try a different approach on convincing the club's guards.  
> Cunningly, she had one of her slick hands inside the man's underwear, twisting what's supposed to be his newly pierced penis ever so slow in a menacing way. The poor workers were too much disturbed by this troop of women antics to react right away. 
> 
> One of them called their security chief long ago, when he saw that they couldn't handle these women's fury alone.  
> -"Sorry for the inconvenience, girls. We're rearranging the club's space. Escort them inside at this moment, will you." Angelica said the last part to her personnel while she had her intense eyes fixed all the time on Kyrie. Leaving the scene as swift as she came.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> "You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk. But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk."
> 
> "And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking..."
> 
> "Ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: 'It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.'"
> 
> "Be Drunk" by Charles Baudelaire

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update as regularly as I can (though my word doesn't have much value for I don't possess discipline).
> 
> Still, I'm excited to deliver this piece to AO3 and its residents who proportionate me, such great experience as a reader and now amateur writer.
> 
> *Some of you guys will often note grammar changes/corrections and additions to the already posted narrative, updates, for I'm peculiar with my writing - Not a perfectionist I think, as I commonly feed my idleness.*
> 
> Feel at home to relax and enjoy this venture with me, fellow Devil Hunter! :D s2s2s2
> 
> See you guys soon! 
> 
> -Moonaco


End file.
